if 


. 


L 

HORACE. 

TRANSLATED  BY 

PHILIP  FRANCIS,  D.D. 


WITH  AN  APPENDIX, 


CONTAINING 

TRANSLATIONS  OF  VARIOUS  ODES,  &c.  ^ 

BY 

BEN  JONSON,  COWLEY,  MILTON,  DRYDEN,  POPE, 
ADDISON,  SWIFT,  BENTLEY,  CIIATTERTON, 

G.  WAKEFIELD,  P  0  R  S  O  N,  BYRON,  &c. 

AND 

BY  SOME  OF  THE  MOST  EMINENT  POETS  OF  THE  PRESENT  DAY. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  I. 


NEW-YORK:  . 

PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  - 
NO.  82  CLIFF-STREET. 


184  2. 


BOSTON  COLLEGE  LIBIURr 
CHESTNUT  HILL,  MASS. 


4 


The  version  of  Dr.  Francis  is  highly  Horatian :  it  is  morai 
without  dulness,  gay  and  spirited  with  propriety,  and  tendei 
without  whining.  Hence,  few  translations  have  gone  througl. 
more  editions,  or  met  with  greater  applause  from  the  public.— 
Monthly  Review 


_ 


CONTENTS 


OP 

THE  FIRST  VOLUME. 


PAGE 

Biographical  Sketch  of  Horace  .  .  .  .  vii 

THE  ODES. 


BOOK  I. 


Ode  I. — To  Maecenas 

• 

• 

• 

17 

— 

II. — To  Augustus 

• 

• 

• 

• 

19 

— 

III. — To  the  Ship  in  which  Virgil 

sailed  to  Athens 

• 

21 

— 

IV. — To  Sestius 

• 

• 

• 

9 

23 

— 

V. — To  Pyrrha  .... 

• 

• 

• 

24 

— 

VI. — To  Agrippa 

9 

• 

• 

9 

25 

— 

VII. — To  Munatius  Plancus 

9 

9 

• 

9 

26 

— 

VIII.—' To  Lydia 

9 

9 

• 

9 

27 

— 

IX. — To  Thaliarchus 

9 

• 

• 

9 

29 

— 

X. — Hymn  to  Mercury 

9 

• 

• 

9 

30 

— 

XI. — To  Leuconoe  . 

9 

• 

• 

9 

32 

— 

XII. — Hymn  to  Jove  . 

9 

• 

• 

9 

32 

— 

XIII.— To  Lydia 

9 

• 

• 

• 

35 

— 

XIV. — To  the  Republic  . 

9 

• 

9 

• 

35 

— 

XV. — The  Prophecy  of  Nereus 

9 

• 

9 

• 

36 

— 

XVI. — To  Tyndaris  . 

9 

• 

9 

• 

38 

— 

XVII. — To  Tyndaris 

9 

• 

9 

• 

39 

— 

XVIII.—' To  Varus  . 

• 

• 

9 

• 

40 

— 

XIX. — On  Glycera  . 

• 

• 

9 

• 

42 

— 

XX. — To  Maecenas  . 

9 

• 

9 

• 

43 

— 

XXII. — To  Aristius  Fuscus 

• 

• 

9 

• 

44 

— 

XXIII-.— To  Chloe  . 

• 

• 

9 

• 

45 

— 

XXIV.—' To  Virgil  . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

46 

— 

XXV.— ToLydra  . 

• 

• 

9 

9 

47 

— 

XXVI. — To  his  Muse 

• 

• 

• 

9 

48 

— 

XXVI I. — To  his  Companions^  . 

• 

• 

• 

9 

48 

I 


* 


iv  '  CONTENTS. 


Ode  XXVIII. — The  Mariner  and  the  Ghost  of  Archytas 

PAGE 

50 

— 

XXIX. — To  Iccius  . 

• 

51 

— 

XXX.— To  Venus  . 

• 

52 

— 

XXXI.— To  Apollo  . 

• 

53 

— 

XXXII.— To  his  Lyre 

• 

54 

— 

XXXIII.— To  Albius  Tibullus  . 

« 

55 

— 

XXXIV . 

56 

— 

XXXV.— To  Fortune 

• 

57 

— 

XXXVI . 

59 

— 

XXXVII. — To  his  Companions 

• 

60 

XXXVIII.— To  bis  Slave  . 

BOOK  II. 

• 

63 

Ode  I. — To  Asinius  Pollio 

• 

64 

— 

11. — To  Crispus  Sallustius 

• 

• 

• 

66 

— 

III. — To  Dellius 

• 

• 

68 

— 

IV. — To  Xanthias  Phoceus 

• 

• 

• 

69 

— 

V . 

71 

— 

VI. — To  Septimius  . 

• 

• 

• 

72 

— 

VII. — To  Pompeius  Varus 

• 

• 

• 

74 

— 

VIII. — To  Barme 

• 

• 

• 

76 

— 

IX. — To  Valgius 

• 

• 

• 

77 

— 

X. — To  Licinius  Murena  . 

• 

• 

• 

78 

— 

XI. — To  Quintius  Hirpinus 

• 

• 

• 

79 

— 

XII. — To  Maecenas  . 

• 

• 

• 

81 

— 

XIII . 

• 

• 

• 

82 

— 

XIV. — To  Postumus  . 

• 

• 

• 

83 

— 

XV . 

• 

• 

85 

— 

XVI. — To  Pompeius  Grosphus  . 

• 

• 

• 

86 

— 

XVII. — To  Maecenas 

• 

• 

• 

88 

— 

XVIII . 

89 

— 

XIX. — To  Bacchus  . 

• 

• 

• 

91 

XX. — To  Maecenas  . 

BOOK  III. 

• 

• 

• 

93 

Ode  I.  . 

95 

— 

II. — To  his  Friends  . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

98 

— 

Ill . 

100 

— 

IV. — To  Calliope 

• 

• 

• 

• 

104 

— 

V. — The  Praises  of  Augustus  . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

107 

— 

VI. — To  the  Romans  .  . 

• 

• 

• 

110 

— 

VII. — To  Asterie  .  .  . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

112 

— 

VIII- — To  Maecenas  .  .  . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

113 

— 

IX.-To  Lydia  .... 

114 

— 

X. — To  Lyce  .... 

115 

CONTENTS 


V 


Ode  XI. — To  Mercury 
—  XII.— To  Neobule  . 

• 

m 

• 

• 

PAGE 

116 

• 

0 

• 

• 

118 

—  XIII. — To  the  Fountain  Bandusia 

• 

0 

• 

• 

119 

—  XIV. — To  the  Romans 

• 

0 

• 

• 

120 

—  XV. — To  Chloris 

• 

0 

• 

• 

122 

—  XVI. — To  Maecenas  . 

• 

0 

• 

• 

122 

—  XVII. — To  JElius  Lamia  . 

• 

• 

• 

0 

125 

—  XVIII. — To  Faunus  . 

• 

• 

• 

125 

—  XIX. — To  Telephus  . 

0 

• 

• 

• 

126 

—  XX. — To  Pyrrhus 

0 

• 

• 

• 

127 

—  XXI. — To  his  Cask  . 

• 

• 

• 

0 

128 

—  XXII. — To  Diana 

• 

• 

• 

129 

—  XXIII.— To  Phidyle  . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

130 

—  XXIV. — Against  Misers  . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

131 

—  XXV. — To  Bacchus  . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

133 

—  XXVI  — To  Venus  . 

• 

134 

—  XXVII.— To  Galatea 

• 

134 

—  XXVIII.— To  Lyde 

• 

• 

• 

0 

137 

—  XXIX. — To  Maecenas 

• 

138 

—  XXX. — To  Melpomene 

• 

• 

• 

• 

141 

BOOK  IV. 

Ode  I. — To  Venus  .... 

143 

—  II. — To  Antonius  lulus 

• 

144 

—  III. — To  Melpomene 

• 

0 

• 

0 

147 

—  IV. — The  Praises  ».f  Drusus 

• 

0 

0 

148 

—  V. — To  Augustus 

0 

0 

• 

0 

152 

—  VII. — To  Torquatus  . 

0 

• 

0 

155 

—  VIII. — To  Censorinus 

0 

0 

156 

—  IX. — To  Lollius 

• 

0 

158 

—  X. — To  Ligurinus 

• 

• 

0 

161 

—  XL— To  Phyllis 

1 

0 

162 

—  XII.— To  Virgil 

• 

0 

163 

—  XIII. — To  Lyce 

• 

0 

165 

—  XIV. — To  Augustus 

• 

• 

0 

166 

—  XV. — To  Augustus  . 

• 

• 

169 

BOOK  V. 

Ode  I. — To  Maecenas 

• 

• 

0 

172 

—  II. — The  praises  of  a  country  life 

• 

• 

0 

174 

—  III. — To  Maecenas 

• 

• 

• 

176 

_  IV 

A  '  •  •  •  •  •  • 

• 

• 

• 

0 

177 

•  •  •  •  •  • 

• 

• 

0 

178 

—  VI. — To  Cassius  Severus  . 

181 

—  VII. — To  the  Roman  People  . 

$ 

• 

• 

182 

A  2 

VI 


CONTENTS. 


PAO* 

Ode  V. — To  Augustas.  By  the  Rev.  S.  Sanderson  .  183 

—  VII. — To  Torquatus.  By  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  .  185 

The  Same.  By  J.  Merivale,  Esq . 186 

Ode  IX. — To  Lollius.  By  George  Stepney  .  .  .  187 

—  X.— To  Ligurinus.  By  Archdeacon  Wrangham  .  189 

The  Same.  By  Alexander  Cunningham  .  .  .  189 

Ode  XII. — To  Virgil.  By  Lord  Thurlow  .  .  .  190 

—  XIII. — To  Lyce.  By  W.  Cartwright  .  .  .  191 


BOOK  V. 

Ode  I. — To  Majcenas.  By  K.  Chetwood  .  .  .  193 

—  II. — The  Praises  of  a  Country  Life.  By  C.  Cotton  194 

—  V.  By  the  Rev.  C.  A.  Wheelwright  .  .  .  196 

—  XV. — To  Neaera.  By  W.  Somerville  .  .  .  199 

The  Secular  Poem.  By  William  Duncombe  .  .  .  201 
Book  III.  Ode  IX. — To  Lydia.  By  H.  Matthews  .  .  204 


THE  SATIRES. 

BOOK  I. 

Satire  III.  By  John  Cam  Hobhouse,  Esq.  .  .  .  205 

-  IX.  By  Henry  Hall  Joy,  M.A . 210 

Alphabetical  List  of  Authors,  whose  Translations  are 

printed  in  the  Appendix . 215 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

i 

OF 

HORACE. 


This  great  poet  was  born  atVenusia,  a  town  on 
the  frontiers  of  Lucania  and  Apulia,  sixty-three 
years  before  the  Christian  era,  during  the  consulate 
of  L.  Aurelius  Cotta  and  L.  Manlius  Torquatus. 
His  father  was  a  freedman  and  a  tax-gatherer,  who 
nevertheless  gave  him  a  liberal  education  at  Rome 
under  Orbilius  Pupillus,  of  Beneventum.  By  him 
he  was  instructed  in  Greek  literature,  and  had 
perused  the  Iliad,  as  he  himself  informs  us,  before 
he  went  to  complete  his  education  at  Athens,  which 
had  long  been  a  fashionable  literary  resort  for 
the  Roman  youth.  During  his  abode  in  that  city 
the  assassination  of  Caesar  and  the  consequent 
troubles  occurred ;  and  Brutus,  on  his  march  to 
Macedonia,  among  many  other  young  Romans  of 
similar  pursuits,  took  with  him  Horace,  who  was 
then  in  his  twenty-third  year,  and  gave  him  the 
rank  of  military  tribune.  He  freely  confesses  his 
cowardice  at  the  battle  of  Philippi,  where  he  left 
his  shield,  a  circumstance  which  the  ancients  con- 


Vlll 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 


sidered  particularly  ignominious.  It  is  possible, 
however,  that  Horace  has  himself  overcharged  the 
picture,  and  has  wished,  by  this  stroke  of  apparent 
candour  and  simplicity,  to  persuade  Augustus  that 
his  connection  with  the  adverse  party  was  less  the 
result  of  political  conviction  than  of  the  natural 
activity  and  restlessness  of  a  youthful  mind,  ardent 
for  adventure,  and  only  brave  while  thoughtless 
of  danger. 

Before  the  triumvirate  undertook  their  expedition 
against  Brutus  and  Cassius,  they  had  agreed  at 
Mutina,  in  order  to  retain  their  soldiers  in  alle¬ 
giance,  to  give  them,  in  the  event  of  success,  eigh¬ 
teen  principal  towns  of  Italy,  which  had  adhered  to 
the  opposite  faction,  among  which  were  Venusium 
and  Cremona.  Thus,  in  the  distribution  which  fol¬ 
lowed  the  consummation  of  the  war,  the  paternal 
estate  of  Horace  at  the  former  place  was  confis¬ 
cated  ;  and  Virgil,  whose  property  was  situated  at 
Mantua,  was  placed  in  the  same  circumstances. 

Horace  made  no  solicitations  to  Augustus. 
Thrown  on  his  own  resources,  his  habits  and  pur¬ 
suits  allowed  him  no  other  subsistence  than  litera¬ 
ture.  Poverty,  whose  chilling  influence  on  the  fire 
of  poetry  this  great  satirist  has  so  pathetically 
lamented,  was  his  bold  and  stimulating  muse. 
What  were  the  productions  of  her  inspiration,  or 
whether  any  are  now  extant,  is  not  known  ;  but 
whatever  were  the  merits  of  these  compositions, 
his  early  talents  procured  for  him  the  intimacy  of 
Virgil  and  Varius,  who  recommended  him  to  Me- 
caenas,  the  most  celebrated  patron  of  literature. 
Horace  has  left  us  a  pleasing  and  natural  account 


OF  HORACE. 


IX 


of  his  introduction  to  that  illustrious  man.  In  few 
and  broken  words  he  candidly  explained  his  simple 
history  :  he  received  a  brief  answer  ;  and  in  nine 
months  after,  that  lordly  monarch  of  wits  called 
him  to  the  number  of  his  subjects. 

Though  Mecaenas  was  slow  in  the  formation  of 
our  poet’s  acquaintance,  he  soon  showed  himself 
forward  in  its  improvement ;  and  very  shortly  after 
Horace  had  been  thus  noticed,  he  accompanied  the 
minister  on  his  journey  to  Brundusium,  whither  he 
was  sent  by  Augustus  to  treat  with  Antony,  who 
was  then  menacing  Italy  with  a  renewal  of  the 
civil  wars.  On  this  occasion  Horace  had  an  oppor¬ 
tunity  of  enjoying  the  society  of  his  friends,  Virgil, 
Varius,  and  Plotius.  He  appears  at  this  time  to 
have  been  what  Suetonius  tells  us  he  was — a  ques- 
tor’s  secretary. 

By  Mecaenas  Horace  was  recommended  to  Au¬ 
gustus,  with  whom  he  lived  on  terms  of  the  closest 
familiarity.  How  far  he  was  qualified  for  the  inti¬ 
macy  of  princes,  he  has  not  left  us  in  doubt.  That 
wonderful  versatility,  which  in  the  genius  of  Hor¬ 
ace  produced  such  diversified  poetical  excellence, 
seems  to  have  extended  to  his  inclinations.  He 
appears  to  have  enjoyed,  with  equal  intensity,  the 
tranquillity  of  literary  rural  seclusion,  and  the 
tumultuous  pageantry  of  the  court  and  city  ;  while, 
from  the  precepts  which  he  affords  for  the  conduct 
of  every  part  of  life,  and  his  known  friendship 
with  Augustus,  we  may  conclude  that  in  all  his 
transactions  with  that  prince  he  was  neither  impor¬ 
tunate  nor  servile  ;  that,  while  loaded  with  honours, 
he  made  no  degrading  compromise — no  unseason- 


I 


X  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

able  solicitation  ;  but  either  complied  with  freedom, 
or  dissented  with  modesty  and  respect. 

For  five  years  after  the  return  of  Augustus, 
Horace  continued  to  enjoy  an  uninterrupted  repose 
with  the  most  perfect  independence,  although  oc¬ 
casionally  mingling  among  the  great  and  powerful, 
who  sought  his  society  even  to  obsequiousness. 
He  lived  at  the  table  of  his  illustrious  patrons  as 
if  he  were  in  his  own  house  ;  and  Augustus,  while 
sitting  at  his  meals,  with  Virgil  at  his  right  hand 
and  Horace  at  his  left,  often  ridiculed  the  short 
breath  of  the  former  and  the  watery  eyes  of  the 
latter,  by  observing  that  he  sat  between  sighs  and 
tears.  At  the  end  of  this  period  our  author’s  felicity 
was  interrupted  by  the  death  of  his  friend  Virgil, 
which  was  shortly  after  succeeded  by  that  of  Tibul¬ 
lus.  The  latter  poet  had  been  associated  with 
Horace,  if  not  by  the  bonds  of  intimate  friendship, 
yet  by  the  sympathies  of  liberal  pursuits.  To  his 
candour  and  discrimination  Horace  submitted  his 
ethical  writings,  and  from  Horace  he  received 
counsel  and  consolation  in  the  sufferings  of  disap¬ 
pointed  love. 

Horace  was  now  approaching  his  fiftieth  year, 
and  the  loss  of  two  friends  with  whom  he  had 
been  so  long  associated,  threw  back  on  his  heart 
a  tide  of  generous  affection,  which  soon  flowed 
towards  his  early  and  benevolent  patrons,  Augustus 
and  Mecrenas.  The  former,  at  once  to  prove  his 
friendship  for  the  poet  and  his  admiration  of  his 
genius,  selected  him  to  compose  the  hymn  to  be 
sung  in  honour  of  Apollo  and  Diana  at  the  Secular 
Games.  This  poem  is,  in  all  respects,  extremely 


t 


OF  HORACE. 


xi 


valuable  ;  for  not  only  is  it  a  composition  of  high 
intrinsic  excellence,  but  is  the  only  considerable 
extant  specimen  of  the  lyric  part  of  the  Roman 
worship.  So  pleased  was  Augustus  with  it,  that 
he  commanded  Horace  to  celebrate  in  an  ode  the 
victory  which  Drusus  and  Tiberius  obtained  over 
the  Rhaeti  and  Vindelici ;  which  poem,  together 
with  the  book  of  which  it  forms  a  part,  was  pub¬ 
lished  in  the  same  year  by  the  emperor’s  order. 
Nor  was  Augustus  desirous  alone  of  having  his 
public  successes  emblazoned  in  the  verses  of 
Horace.  He  read  the  poet’s  epistles  and  satires, 
and  felt  chagrined  and  discontented  because  none 
of  them  were  addressed  to  himself.  “  I  am  angry 
with  you,”  he  writes  to  Horace,  “  because  you  do 
not  especially  choose  me  to  converse  with  in  the 
principal  part  of  your  writings  of  this  nature.  Do 
you  fear  lest  the  appearance  of  my  intimacy  should 
injure  you  with  posterity  ?”  To  this  flattering  re¬ 
proof  Horace  replied  by  the  first  epistle  of  the 
second  book,  in  which  he  extricates  himself  from 
the  charge  of  neglect  with  a  consummate  skill  and 
address  peculiarly  his  own. 

The  fortitude  of  Horace  was  put  to  a  severe  trial 
by  the  death  of  his  early  friend  and  best  patron, 
Mecaenas ;  nor  does  it  appear  that  it  enabled  him 
to  recover  the  calamity,  as  he  died  within  three 
weeks  after,  in  the  57th  year  of  his  age,  A.C.  9, 
during  the  consulate  of  C.  Marcius  Censorinus  and 
C.  Asinius  Gallus.  Horace  had  on  one  occasion 
declared  the  impossibility  of  long  surviving  his 
t  friend — that  one  day  must  bring  with  it  the  fall  of 
both ;  and  the  prediction  was  very  nearly  fulfilled. 


Xll  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

Never,  perhaps,  was  death  encountered  with  more 
genuine  philosophy  than  by  Horace.  He  employed 
his  latter  days  exclusively  in  the  investigation  of 
moral  good  and  the  nature  of  happiness,  which  he 
conducted  on  the  principles  of  right  reason,  with¬ 
out  reference  to  the  subtleties  and  mechanism  of 
any  of  the  philosophical  systems  then  in  vogue. 
He  left  all  his  possessions  to  Augustus. 

The  works  of  Horace  have  been  always  num¬ 
bered  among  the  most  valuable  remains  of  antiquity. 
If  we  may  rely  on  the  judgment  of  his  commenta¬ 
tors,  he  has  united  in  his  lyric  poetry  the  enthusi¬ 
asm  of  Pindar,  the  majesty  of  Alcaeus,  the  tender¬ 
ness  of  Sappho,  and  the  charming  levities  of  Anac¬ 
reon.  Yet  he  has  beauties  of  his  own  genius  and 
manner,  that  form  his  peculiar  character.  Many 
of  his  odes  are  varied  with  irony  and  satire,  with 
delicacy  and  humour,  with  ease  and  pleasantry. 
Some  of  them  were  written  in  the  first  heat  of 
imagination,  when  circumstances  of  time,  places, 
and  persons,  were  strong  on  him  ;  in  others,  he 
rises  in  full  poetical  dignity ;  sublime  in  sentiments, 
bold  in  allusions,  and  profuse  of  figures  ;  frugal  of 
words,  curious  in  his  choice,  and  happily  venturous 
in  his  use  of  them ;  pure  in  his  diction,  animated 
in  his  expressions,  and  harmonious  in  his  numbers  ; 
artful  in  the  plan  of  his  poems,  regular  in  their 
conduct,  and  happy  in  their  execution.  The  sat¬ 
ires  and  epistles  of  this  writer,  without  the  slight¬ 
est  appearance  of  dictation  or  assumed  authority, 
contain  more  real  good  sense,  sound  morality,  and 
true  philosophy,  than  perhaps  any  single  work  of 
heathen  antiquity  *  and  their  frequent  perusal  has 


OF  HORACE. 


Xlll 


a  tendency  to  make  the  reader  satisfied  with  him¬ 
self  and  others,  and  to  produce  on  his  part  a  con¬ 
duct  at  once  conciliatory  towards  the  world,  and 
consistent  with  his  own  independence  and  integ¬ 
rity.  He  has  this  advantage  over  the  rigid  Juvenal 
— that  we  receive  him  into  our  bosOms,  while  he 
reasons  with  good-humour,  and  corrects  in  the  lan¬ 
guage  of  friendship.  Nor  will  his  satires  be  less 
useful  to  the  present  age  than  to  that  in  which  they 
were  written ;  since  he  does  not  draw  his  charac¬ 
ters  from  particular  persons,  but  from  human  nature 
itself,  which  is  invariably  the  same  in  all  ages  and 
countries. 

Horace  has  left  us  in  his  writings  complete  ma¬ 
terials  for  his  own  biography  ;  and  his  life  was  so 
entirely  passed  with  Augustus,  Mecsenas,  and  the 
poets  his  contemporaries,  that  its  history  is  in  itself 
the  best  commentary  on  the  literary  transactions 
of  that  brilliant  period.  He  is,  perhaps,  the  best 
historian  also  of  his  country’s  poetry :  his  sketches, 
it  is  true,  are  concise  and  incidental ;  but  the  out¬ 
line  is  unbroken,  and  we  have  good  reason  to  be¬ 
lieve  that  it  is  correct. 

Horace  was  buried  next  to  the  tomb  of  Mecsenas, 
at  the  extremity  of  the  Esquiline  hill. 

Vol.  I. — B 


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‘  ■  1  B  '  1  ** 


THE  ODES. 


BOOK  I. 


ODE  I.— TO  MAECENAS.* 

All  men  have  different  attachments ;  Horace’s  taste  inclines 
to  lyric  poetry,  for  the  success  of  which  he  depends  on  the 
patronage  of  Maecenas. 

Maecenas,  whose  high  lineage  springs 
From  fair  Etruria’s  ancient  kings ; 

O  thou,  my  patron  and  my  friend, 

On  whom  my  life,  my  fame  depend ; 

In  clouds  th’  Olympic  dust  to  roll,  5 

To  turn  with  kindling  wheels  the  goal, 

And  gain  the  palm,  victorious  prize  ! 

Exalt  a  mortal  to  the  skies. 

This  man,  by  faction  and  debate 
Raised  to  the  first  employs  of  state :  10 

*  The  word  ode  was  not  introduced  into  the  Latin  tongue 
until  the  third  or  fourth  century,  and  was  then  first  used  to  sig¬ 
nify  any  pieces  of  lyric  poetry. — Sanadon. 

1  Caius  Cilnius  Maecenas  is  distinguished  in  the  Roman  his¬ 
tory  by  being  so  many  years  the  favourite  of  Augustus  ;  yet  he 
is  more  famous  by  the  protection  and  encouragement  which  he 
gave  to  men  of  genius  and  letters.  To  him  the  present  world 
is  in  a  great  measure  indebted  for  all  the  wit  and  learning  of  the 
Augustan  age  ;  and  even  at  this  day  the  name  of  Maecenas  is  a 
title  not  unworthy  of  persons  of  the  noblest  character,  who 
know,  like  him,  how  to  animate,  by  their  favour  and  generosity, 
the  spirit  of  emulation  among  writers. — San. 

9  The  poet  here  describes  the  various  conditions  of  life,  but 
without  any  intention  of  comparing  them,  or  determining  which 
is  really  most  eligible.  It  is  sufficient,  to  the  design  of  the  ode, 
to  prove  that  men  have  very  different  sentiments  concerning 

B  2 


18 


HORACE. 


Another,  who  from  Libya’s  plain 
Sweeps  to  his  barn  the  various  grain : 

A  third,  who  with  unwearied  toil 
Ploughs  cheerful  his  paternal  soil ; 

While  in  their  several  wishes  bless’d,  15 

Not  all  the  wealth  by  kings  possess’d 
Shall  tempt,  with  fearful  souls,  to  brave 
The  terrors  of  the  foamy  wave. 

When  loud  the  winds  and  waters  wage 
Wild  war  with  elemental  rage,  20 

The  merchant  praises  the  retreat, 

The  quiet  of  his  rural  seat ; 

Yet,  want  untutor’d  to  sustain, 

Soon  rigs  his  shatter’d  bark  again. 

No  mean  delights  possess  his  soul,  25 

With  good  old  wine  who  crowns  his  bowl ; 
Whose  early  revels  are  begun 
Ere  half  the  course  of  day  be  run, 

Now,  by  some  sacred  fountain  laid, 

Now,  stretch’d  beneath  some  bowering  shade. 

The  tented  camps  a  soldier  charm,  31 

Trumpets  and  fifes  his  bosom  warm ; 

Their  mingled  sounds  with  joy  he  hears, 

Those  sounds  of  war  which  mothers  fear. 

The  sportsman,  chill’d  by  midnight  Jove,  35 
Forgets  his  tender,  wedded  love, 

Whether  his  faithful  hounds  pursue, 

And  hold  the  bounding  hind  in  view  ; 

Whether  the  boar  his  hunter  foils, 

And  foaming  breaks  the  spreading  toils.  40 
An  ivy  wreath,  fair  learning’s  prize, 

Raises  Maecenas  to  the  skies. 

The  breezy  grove,  the  mazy  round, 

Where  the  light  nymphs  and  satyrs  bound, 

happiness ;  but  when  once  their  choice  is  fixed,  it  were  in  vain 
to  propose  to  them  a  change  of  the  prevailing  passion,  or  the  use 
of  other  means  for  the  gratification  of  it,  than  what  they  have 
already  embraced. — Glareanus.  Dacier. 


BOOK  I. - ODE  IT. 


19 

If  there  the  sacred  nine  inspire  45 

The  breathing  flute,  and  strike  the  lyre, 

There  let  me  fix  my  last  retreat, 

Far  from  the  little  vulgar  and  the  great. 

But  if  you  rank  me  with  the  choir, 

Who  tuned  with  art  the  Grecian  lyre,  50 

Swift  to  the  noblest  heights  of  fame 
Shall  rise  thy  poet’s  deathless -name. 


ODE  II.— TO  AUGUSTUS. 

Horace  dissuades  Augustus  from  resigning  the  empire,  on  ac¬ 
count  of  the  prodigies  which  happened  at  the  beginning  of 
the  year. 

Enough  of  snow  and  hail  in  tempests  dire 
Have  pour’d  on  earth,  while  heaven’s  eternal  sire 
With  red  right  arm  at  his  own  temples  hurl’d 
His  thunders,  and  alarm’d  a  guilty  world, 

Lest  Pyrrha  should  again  with  plaintive  cries  5 
Behold  the  monsters  of  the  deep  arise, 

When  to  the  mountain  summit  Proteus  drove 
His  sea-born  herd,  and  where  the  woodland  dove 

Late  perch’d,  his  wonted  seat,  the  scaly  brood 
Entangled  hung  upon  the  topmost  wood,  10 

And  every  timorous  native  of  the  plain, 
High-floating,  swam  amid  the  boundless  main. 

We  saw,  push’d  backward  to  his  native  source, 

The  yellow  Tiber  roll  his  rapid  course  ; 

With  impious  ruin  threatening  Vesta’s  fane,  15 
And  the  great  monuments  of  Numa’s  reign; 

3  Horace  alludes  to  a  superstitious  opinion  of  the  ancients, 
who  believed  that  thunders,  which  portended  any  revolution  in 
a  state,  were  more  inflamed  than  any  other,  as  they  fancied  that 
the  lightnings  of  Jupiter  were  red  and  fiery ;  those  of  the  ouier 
gods  pale  and  dark.— Cruq. 


I 


20  HORACE. 

With  grief  and  rage  while  Ilia’s  bosom  g.ows, 
Boastful,  for  her  revenge,  his  waters  rose ; 

But  now  th’  uxorious  river  glides  away, 

So  Jove  commands,  smooth-winding  to  the  sea.  20 

And  yet,  less  numerous  by  their  parents’  crimes, 
Our  sons  shall  hear,  shall  hear  to  latest  times, 

Of  Roman  arms  with  civil  gore  imbrued, 

Which  better  had  the  Persian  foe.  subdued. 

Among  her  guardian  gods,  what  pitying  power  25 
To  raise  her  sinking  state  shall  Rome  implore  ? 
Shall  her  own  hallow’d  virgin’s  earnest  prayer 
Harmonious  charm  offended  Vesta’s  ear? 

To  whom  shall  Jove  assign  to  purge  away 

The  guilty  deed  ?  Come,  then,  bright  god  of  day,  30 

But  gracious  veil  thy  shoulders  beamy  bright, 

Oh !  veil  in  clouds  th’  insufferable  light. 

Or  come,  sweet  queen  of  smiles,  while  round  thee 
rove, 

On  wanton  wing,  the  powers  of  mirth  and  love  ; 

Or  hither,  Mars,  thine  aspect  gracious  bend,  35 
And  powerful  thy  neglected  race  defend. 

Parent  of  Rome,  amid  the  rage  of  fight 
Sated  with  scenes  of  blood,  thy  fierce  delight, 

Thou,  whom  the  polish’d  helm,  the  noise  of  arms, 
And  the  stern  soldier’s  frown  with  transport  warms  : 

Or  thou,  fair  Maia’s  winged  son  appear,  41 

And  human  shape,  in  prime  of  manhood,  wear; 
Declared  the  guardian  of  th’  imperial  state, 

Divine  avenger  of  great  Caesar’s  fate  : 

Oh !  late  return  to  heav’n,  and  may  thy  reign  45 
With  lengthen’d  blessings  fill  thy  wide  domain  ! 

Nor  let  thy  people’s  crimes  provoke  thy  flight, 

On  air  swift  rising  to  the  realms  of  light. 


BOOK  I. - ODE  III. 


21 


Great  prince  and  father  of  the  state,  receive 
The  noblest  triumphs  which  thy  Rome  can  give ;  50 
Nor  let  the  Parthian,  with  unpunish’d  pride, 

Beyond  his  bounds,  0  Caesar,  dare  to  ride. 

ODE  III.— TO  THE  SHIP  IN  WHICH  VIRGIL 
SAILED  TO  ATHENS.* 

Horace  wishes  Virgil  a  prosperous  voyage,  and  inveighs 
against  the  impious  boldness  of  mankind. 

So  may  the  Cyprian  queen  divine, 

And  the  twin-stars  with  saving  lustre  shine ; 

So  may  the  father  of  the  wind 
All  others,  but  the  western  breezes,  bind, 

As  you,  dear  vessel,  safe  restore, 

Th’  intrusted  pledge  to  the  Athenian  shore, 

And  of  my  soul  the  partner  save, 

My  much-loved  Virgil  from  the  raging  wave. 

Or  oak,  or  brass,  with  triple  fold, 

Around  that  daring  mortal’s  bosom  roll’d,  10 

Who  first,  to  the  wild  ocean’s  rage, 

Launch’d  the  frail  bark,  and  heard  the  winds  engage 

*  We  may  look  on  this  ode  as  the  last  farewell  of  Horace  to 
Virgil,  when  that  poet  went  to  finish  his  AHneid  at  Athens.  The 
first  eight  lines  are  extremely  soft  and  tender.  From  thence  the 
poet,  inspired  by  his  affection  for  his  friends,  starts  away,  with 
a  truly  Pindaric  spirit,  to  a  description  of  all  the  terrors  and 
dangers  of  the  ocean,  as  if  he  were  alarmed  at  sight  of  the  ves¬ 
sel  in  which  he  fancies  Virgil  was  exposed  to  all  the  hazards  of 
the  deep.  He  detests  navigation  :  he  thinks  it  a  violation  of  the 
laws  of  nature  ;  an  impious  defiance  of  the  will  and  power  of 
the  gods.  In  the  remainder  of  the  ode,  with  a  noble  moral  spirit, 
he  condemns  in  general  the  daring  impiety  of  mankind,  as  if  he 
saw  it  rise  from  the  same  principle  which  inspired  their  first  at¬ 
tempts  on  the  ocean.  Thus  we  see  how  regular  and  strongly 
connected  were  the  ancient  Pindaric  poems. 

Virgil  went  to  Athens  in  the  year  of  Rome  735,  which  fixes 
the  date  of  this  ode. — Le  Fev.  San. 

II  It  is  an  idle  curiosity  to  inquire  who  was  the  first  sailor 
since  it  is  very  probable  navigation  was  known  in  the  earliest 


22 


HORACE. 


Tempestuous,  when  the  south  descends 
Precipitate,  and  with  the  north  contends ; 

Nor  fear’d  the  stars  portending  rain,  15 

Nor  the  loud  tyrant  of  the  western  main. 

Of  power  supreme  the  storm  to  raise, 

Or  calmer  smooth  the  surface  of  the  seas. 

What  various  forms  of  death  could  fright 
The  man,  who  view’d  with  fix’d,  unshaken  sight,  20 
The  floating  monster’s,  waves  inflamed, 

And  rocks,  for  shipwreck’d  fleets,  ill  famed? 

Jove  has  the  realms  of  earth  in  vain 
Divided  by  th’  inhabitable  main, 

If  ships  profane,  with  fearless  pride,  25 

Bound  o’er  th’  inviolable  tide. 

No  laws,  or  human  or  divine, 

Can  the  presumptuous  race  of  man  confine. 

Thus  from  the  sun’s  ethereal  beam 
When  bold  Prometheus  stole  th’  enlivening  flame, 
Of  fevers  dire  a  ghastly  brood,  31 

Till  then  unknown,  th’  unhappy  fraud  pursued ; 

On  earth  their  horrors  baleful  spread, 

And  the  pale  monarch  of  the  dead, 

Till  then  slow-moving  to  his  prey,  35 

Precipitately  rapid  swept  his  way. 

Thus  did  the  venturous  Cretan  dare 
To  tempt  with  impious  wings  the  void  of  air; 

Through  hell  Alcides  urged  his  course  : 

No  work  too  high  for  man’s  audacious  force.  40 
Our  folly  would  attempt  the  skies, 

And  with  gigantic  boldness  impious  rise  ; 

Nor  Jove,  provoked  by  mortal  pride, 

Can  lay  his  angry  thunderbolts  aside. 

ages  of  the  world.  Jason  has  been  thought  the  inventor  of  it, 
because  before  his  time  the  Greeks  and  Phoenicians  sailed  in 
round  ships.  He  built  the  Argo,  which,  in  the  Phoenician  lan¬ 
guage,  signifies  a  long  vessel. — Dac. 

A  learned  editor  of  Virgil’s  Georgies  believes  that  an  alder 
tree,  grown  hollow  with  age,  and  falling  into  the  river  on  which 
it  was  planted  (for  this  tree  delights  in  a  moist  soil,  and  banks 
of  rivers),  gave  the  first  hint  towards  navigation. 


BOOK  I. - ODE  IV. 


23 


ODE  IV.—1 TO  SESTIUS  * 

An  exhortation  to  pleasure,  with  considerations  on  the  approach 
of  spring,  and  the  brevity  of  life. 

Fierce  winter  melts  in  vernal  gales, 

And  grateful  zephyrs  fill  the  spreading  sails : 

No  more  the  ploughman  loves  his  fire, 

No  more  the  lowing  herds  their  stalls  desire, 

While  earth  her  richest  verdure  yields,  5 
Nor  hoary  frosts  now  whiten  o’er  the  fields. 

Now  joyous  through  the  verdant  meads, 
Beneath  the  rising  moon,  fair  Venus  leads 
Her  various  dance,  and  with  her  train 
Of  nymphs  and  modest  graces  shakes  the  plain,  10 
While  Vulcan’s  glowing  breath  inspires 
The  toilsome  forge,  and  blows  up  all  its  fires. 

Now  crown’d  with  myrtle,  or  the  flowers 
Which  the  glad  earth  from  her  free  bosom  pours, 

*  Although  the  subject  of  this  ode  be  very  common,  yet  there 
is  nothing  common  in  the  manner  in  which  Horace  hath  treated 
it.  A  certain  gayety  of  spirit,  under  an  air  of  seriousness,  forms 
its  peculiar  character.  Even  the  view  of  death  at  the  end  of  it 
is  a  strong  Epicurean  reason  for  living  as  cheerfully  as  we  can. 
By  the  descriptions  of  flowers,  groves,  and  the  festivals  of  Ve¬ 
nus,  Faunus,  and  Death,  which  were  celebrated  in  spring,  the 
ode  appears  to  have  been  written  in  the  beginning  of  April,  but 
in  what  year  is  uncertain.  It  is  the  only  one  of  this  form  re¬ 
maining  to  us. — Dac.  San. 

8  We  have  here  a  very  pretty  opposition  between  the  charac¬ 
ters  of  Venus  and  Vulcan;  the  gay  delights  of  the  wife,  and 
the  laborious  employment  of  the  husband ;  who  is  here  de¬ 
scribed  working  in  spring,  that  he  might  forge  thunderbolts 
enough  for  Jupiter  to  throw  in  summer. — Rodelius.  Das. 

13  These  verses  continue  the  description  of  the  feasts  of  Ve¬ 
nus  ;  for  flowers,  and  particularly  myrtle,  were  consecrated  to 
that  goddess. 

Lo  !  the  queen  of  pleasing  pains 
Linking  loves  in  mutual  chains, 

Wreathes,  the  myrtle  bowers  between, 

Cottages  of  living  gteen, 


24 


HORACE. 


We’ll  offer,  in  the  shady  grove,  15 

Or  lamb,  or  kid,  as  Pan  shall  best  approve. 

With  equal  pace,  impartial  fate 
Knocks  at  the  palace,  as  the  cottage  gate, 

Nor  should  our  sum  of  life  extend 
Our  growing  hopes  beyond  their  destined  end.  20 
When  sunk  to  Pluto’s  shadowy  coasts, 
Oppress’d  with  darkness,  and  the  fabled  ghosts, 

No  more  the  dice  shall  there  assign 
To  thee  the  jovial  monarchy  o.f  wine ; 

No  more  shall  you  the  fair  admire,  25 

The  virgin’s  envy,  and  the  youth’s  desire. 


ODE  V.— TO  PYRRHA. 


Horace  describes  the  wretched  condition  of  those  who  are 
captivated  by  her  charms,  from  the  influence  of  which  he  has 
escaped,  as  from  a  shipwreck. 

While  liquid  odours  round  him  breathe, 

What  youth,  the  rosy  bower  beneath, 

Now  courts  thee  to  be  kind  1 
Pyrrha,  for  whose  unwary  heart 
Do  you,  thus  dress’d  with  careless  art,  5 

Your  yellow  tresses  bind! 

How  often  shall  th’  unpractised  youth 
Of  alter’d  gods,  and  injured  truth 
With  tears,  alas !  complain  ? 

How  soon  behold  with  wondering  eyes  10 
1  The  black’ning  winds  tempestuous  rise, 

And  scowl  along  the  main? 

While  by  his  easy  faith  betray’d, 

He  now  enjoys  thee,  golden  maid, 


And  commands  her  virgins  gay 
Through  the  mazy  groves  to  stray. — D. 


BOOK  I. - ODE  VI. 


25 

15 


Thus  amiable  and  kind ; 

He  fondly  hopes,  that  you  shall  prove 
Thus  ever  vacant  to  his  love, 

Nor  heeds  the  faithless  wind. 

Unhappy  they,  to  whom  untried 
You  shine,  alas !  in  beauty’s  pride ;  20 

While  1,  now  safe  on  shore, 

Will  consecrate  the  pictured  storm, 

And  all  my  grateful  vows  perform 
To  Neptune’s  saving  power. 


ODE  VI.—' TO  AGRIPPA. 

Horace  describes  his  genius  as  fitter  for  amorous  subjects,  than 
to  celebrate  the  exploits  of  heroes. 

Varius,  who  soars  on  Homer’s  wing, 

Agrippa,  shall  thy  conquests  sing, 

Whate’er,  inspired  by  his  command, 

The  soldier  dared  on  sea  or  land. 

But  we  nor  tempt  with  feeble  art  6 

Achilles’  unrelenting  heart, 

Nor  sage  Ulysses  in  our  lays 

Pursues  his  wanderings  through  the  seas ; 

Nor  ours  in  tragic  strains  to  tell 
How  Pelops’  cruel  offspring  fell.  10 

The  muse  who  rules  th’  unwarlike  lyre 
Forbids  me  boldly  to  aspire 
To  thine  or  sacred  Caesar’s  fame, 

And  hurt  with  feeble  song  the  theme. 

Who  can  describe  the  god  of  fight  15 

In  adamantine  armour  bright, 

OrMerion  on  the  Trojan  shore 
With  dust,  how  glorious !  cover’d  o’er, 

Or  Diomed,  by  Pallas’  aid, 

To  warring  gods  an  equal  made  1 
Hor.  Vol.  1. — C 


20 


26 


HORACE. 


But  whether  loving,  whether  free, 

With  all  our  usual  levity, 

Untaught  to  strike  the  martial  string, 

Of  feasts  and  virgin  fights  we  sing ; 

Of  maids,  who  when  bold  love  assails,  25 
Fierce  in  their  anger — pare  their  nails. 


ODE  VII.— TO  MUNATIUS  PLANCUS. 

Description  of  the  pleasant  retreat  of  Tibur — The  poet  ad 
vises  Plancus  to  drive  away  care  with  wine,  after  the  ex 
ample  of  Teucer. 

Let  other  poets  in  harmonious  lays 
Immortal  Rhodes  or  Mitylene  praise  ; 

Or  Ephesus,  or  Corinth’s  towery  pride, 

Girt  by  the  rolling  main  on  either  side ; 

Or  Thebes,  or  Delphos,  for  their  gods  renown’d,  5 
Or  Tempe’s  plains,  with  flowery  honours  crown’d. 

There  are,  who  sing  in  everlasting  strains 
The  towers  where  Wisdom’s  virgin  goddess  reigns, 
And  ceaseless  toiling  court  the  trite  reward 
Of  olive,  pluck’d  by  every  vulgar  bard.  10 

For  Juno’s  fame,  th’  unnumber’d,  tuneful  throng 
With  rich  Mycene  grace  their  favourite  song, 

And  Argos  boast,  of  pregnant  glebe  to  feed 
The  warlike  horse,  and  animate  the  breed : 

But  me,  nor  patient  Lacedaemon  charms,  15 

Nor  fair  Larissa  with  such  transport  warms, 

As  pure  Albunea’s  far-resounding  source, 

And  rapid  Anio,  headlong  in  his  course, 

Or  Tibur,  fenced  by  groves  from  solar  beams, 

And  fruitful  orchards  bathed  by  ductile  streams.  20 
******* 
****** 

The  south  wind  often,  when  the  welkin  liwers, 
Sweeps  off  the  clouds,  nor  teems  perpetual  showe 


X  0 ST01 4  •  *G>X-  -1  LI  Sli  AB. :!' 

CHKSTJSiUX  'HILL,  MASS, 

BOOK  I. - ODE  VIII.  27 

So,  Plancus,  be  the  happy  wisdom  thine  25 

To  end  the  cares  of  life  in  mellow’d  wine  ; 

Whether  the  camp  with  banners  bright  display’d, 

Or  Tibur  hold  thee  in  its  thick-wrought  shade. 

When  Teucer  from  his  sire  and  country  fled, 
With  poplar  wreaths  the  hero  crown’d  his  head,  30 
Reeking  with  wine,  and  thus  his  friends  address’d, 
Deep  sorrow  brooding  in  each  anxious  breast ; 

Bold  let  us  follow  through  the  foamy  tides, 

Where  fortune,  better  than  a  father,  guides ; 

Avaunt  despair,  when  Teucer  calls  to  fame,  35 
The  same  your  augur,  and  your  guide  the  same. 
Another  Salamis,  in  foreign  clime, 

With  rival  pride  shall  raise  her  head  sublime ; 

So  Phoebus  nods ;  ye  sons  of  valour  true, 

Full  often  tried  in  deeds  of  deadlier  hue,  40 

To-day  with  wine  drive  every  care  away, 
To-morrow  tempt  again  the  boundless  sea. 

25  The  philosophy  of  Epicurus  in  the  hand  of  Horace  is  a 
universal  remedy.  It  fortifies  the  mind  in  disgrace ;  it  dissi¬ 
pates  our  cares,  and  cures  superstition.  It  is  a  constant  refuge 
from  the  cold  of  winter,  and  the  heat  of  summer ;  the  pains  of 
sickness,  and  the  terrors  of  death. 


ODE  VIII.— TO  LYDIA.* 

Horace  blames  Lydia  for  engaging  Sybaris  in  dishonourable 
amours,  and  making  him  leave  those  manly  exercises  to 
which  he  had  been  accustomed. 

By  the  gods,  my  Lydia,  tell, 

Ah  !  why,  by  loving  him  too  well, 

Why  you  hasten  to  destroy 
Young  Sybaris,  too  amorous  boy  1 

*  The  design  of  this  ode  is  not  to  reproach  Sybaris  with 
effeminacy,  or  his  love  of  pleasure ;  but  it  seems  to  be  written 
either  in  resentment  or  jealousy  with  regard  to  Lydia,  who  kept 
him  disguised  in  a  female  dress. — Dac. 


29 


HORACE. 


Why  he  hates  the  sunny  plain,  5 

While  he  can  sun  or  dust  sustain  1 
Why  no  more,  with  martial  pride, 

Does  he  among  his  equals  ride ; 

Or  the  Gallic  steed  command 

With  bitted  curb  and  forming  hand?  10 

More  than  viper’s  baleful  blood 

Why  does  he  fear  the  yellow  flood 

Why  detest  the  wrestler’s  oil, 

While  firm  to  bear  the  manly  toil  ? 

Where  are  now  the  livid  scars  15 

Of  sportive,  nor  inglorious,  wars, 

When  for  the  quoit,  with  vigour  thrown 
Beyond  the  mark,  his  fame  was  known  1 
Tell  us,  why  this  fond  disguise, 

In  which,  like  Thetis’  son  he  lies,  20 

Ere  unhappy  Troy  had  shed 
Here  funeral  sorrows  for  the  dead, 

Lest  a  manly  dress  should  fire 
His  soul  to  war  and  carnage  dire. 

12  The  Roman  youth  threw  themselves  into  the  Tiber  after 
their  exercises  in  the  Campus  Martius,  and  thought  that  such 
hardy  discipline  would  strengthen  them  to  bear  the  fatigues  of 
war. — Ancient.  Scholiast. 

17  This  quoit  was  very  large  and  heavy,  made  of  wood  or 
stone,  but  more  commonly  of  iron  or  brass.  It  was  almost  round, 
and  somewhat  thicker  in  the  middle  than  at  the  edges.  It  was 
thrown  by  the  sole  force  of  the  arm. — San. 


* 


BOOK  I. - ODE  IX. 


29 


ODE  IX.— TO  THALIARCHUS.* 

Horace  exhorts  Thaliarchus  to  pass  the  winter  with  gayety. 

Behold  Soracte’s  airy  height, 

See  how  it  stands  a  heap  of  snow ; 

Behold  the  winter's  hoary  weight 
Oppress  the  labouring  woods  below ; 

And  by  the  season’s  icy  hand  ’  5 

Congeal’d,  the  lazy  rivers  stand. 

Now  melt  away  the  winter’s  cold, 

And  larger  pile  the  cheerful  fire ; 

Bring  down  the  vintage  four  years  old, 

W  hose  mellow’d  heat  can  mirth  inspire ;  10 

Then  to  the  guardian  powers  divine 
Careless  the  rest  of  life  resign  : 


*  Horace  in  this  ode  sets  forth  all  his  Epicurean  philosophy, 
and  so  constant  is  he  to  his  principles,  that  the  different  ages 
of  man,  and  the  various  seasons  of  the  year ;  the  freshness  of 
spring,  and  heat  of  summer ;  the  ripeness  of  autumn,  and  cold¬ 
ness  of  winter,  have  their  several  engagements  to  pleasure. 
This  ode  was  probably  written  at  a  country  seat  of  Thaliarchus, 
near  the  mountain  Soracte  in  Tuscany,  six-and-twenty  miles 
from  Rome. — Dac. 

11  Some  commentators  have  found  in  these  lines  an  air  of 
Epicurean  ridicule  on  the  doctrine  of  the  stoics,  who  asserted 
a  Divine  Providence  even  in  events  most  inconsiderable.  They 
think  the  poet  has  raised  his  style  with  an  affected  pomp  of  ex¬ 
pression,  to  render  his  ridicule  more  strong.  That  when  the 
gods  have  commanded  the  raging  of  the  winds  to  cease,  all  the 
wondrous  effects  of  their  power  shall  be,  that  the  woods  shall 
stand  unshaken.  On  the  contrary,  there  seems  to  be  something 
just  and  noble  in  the  thought,  when  taken  in  a  moral  sense, 
and  which  might  naturally  raise  this  greatness  of  expression ; 
that  when  the  gods  have  appeased  the  winds,  not  a  leaf  shall 
fall  to  the  ground ;  and  even  trees  decayed  and  sapless  with 
age,  shall  stand  unshaken.  Such  is  the  care  and  power  of 
Providence. 

C  2 


30 


HORACE- 


For  when  the  warring  winds  arise, 

And  o’er  the  fervid  ocean  sweep, 

They  speak — and  lo !  the  tempest  dies  15 
On  the  smooth  bosom  of  the  deep ; 
Unshaken  stands  the  aged  grove, 

And  feels  the  providence  of  Jove. 

To-morrow  with  its  cares  despise, 

And  make  the  present  hour  your  own,  20 
Be  swift  to  catch  it  as  it  flies, 

And  score  it  up  as  clearly  won ; 

Nor  let  your  youth  disdain  to  prove 
The  joys  of  dancing  and  of  love. 

Now  let  the  grateful  evening  shade,  25 

The  public  walks,  the  public  park, 

An  assignation  sweetly  made 

With  gentle  whispers  in  the  dark : 

While  age  morose  thy  vigour  spares, 

Be  these  thy  pleasures,  these  thy  cares.  30 

The  laugh  that  from  the  corner  flies, 

The  sportive  fair  one  shall  betray ; 

Then  boldly  snatch  the  joyful  prize ; 

A  ring  or  bracelet  tear  away, 

While  she,  not  too  severely  coy,  35 

Struggling  shall  yield  the  willing  toy. 


ODE  X.— HYMN  TO  MERCURY.* 

I  sing  the  god,  whose  arts  refined 
The  savage  race  of  humankind, 

*  This  ode  was  probably  written  for  a  festival  of  Mercury ; 
yet  there  is  nothing  extraordinary  in  it,  excepting  an  elegance  ' 
of  expression;  allowing  and  harmony  of  numbers.  We  have 
in  it  all  the  honourable  titles  of  Mercury.  He  is  represented  as 
fashioning  the  first  race  of  men,  and  cultivating  their  under¬ 
standings,  by  the  study  of  sciences  most  proper  to  soften  their 
natural  fierceness;  while  he  forms  their  bodies  by  exercises 


BOOK  I. ODE  X.  31 

By  eloquence  their  passions  charm’d, 

By  exercise  their  bodies  form’d : 

Hail,  winged  messenger  of  Jove,  5 

And  all  th’  immortal  powers  above, 

Sweet  parent  of  the  bending  lyre, 

Thy  praise  shall  all  its  sounds  inspire. 

Artful  and  cunning  to  conceal 
Whate’er  in  sportive  theft  you  steal,  10 

When  from  the  god,  who  gilds  the  pole, 

Even  yet  a  boy  his  herds  you  stole, 

With  angry  voice  the  threat’ning  power 
Bade  thee  the  fraudful  prey  restore  ; 

But  of  his  quiver  too  beguiled,  15 

Pleased  with  the  theft,  Apollo  smiled. 

You  wrere  the  wealthy  Priam’s  guide 
When  safe  from  Agamemnon’s  pride, 

Through  hostile  camps,  which  round  him  spread 
Their  watchful  fires,  his  way  he  sped.  20 
Unspotted  spirits  you  consign 
To  blissful  seats  and  joys  divine, 

And  powerful  with  your  golden  wand 
The  light,  unbodied  crowd  command ; 

Thus  grateful  does  your  office  prove  25 

To  gods  below,  and  gods  above. 

most  capable  of  giving  strength  and  grace.  Such  is  the  power 
of  eloquence  ;  such  the  effect  of  wrestling. — San. 

21  The  ode  could  not  end  more  happily  than  by  showing  Mer¬ 
cury  in  his  religious  ministry.  This  god  seems  to  have  been 
particularly  invented  for  the  happiness  of  humankind.  He 
forms  both  their  minds  and  bodies  ;  he  raises  them  to  the  know 
ledge  of  the  gods ;  he  invents  the  innocent  pleasures  of  life  ;  he 
assists  them  in  their  distresses,  and  continues  his  beneficence 
to  them  even  after  death,  by  conducting  the  souls  of  the  good  to 
the  happiness  of  heaven.  For  this  reason  we  sometimes  find 
his  name  in  ancient  epitaphs. — San. 


32 


HORACE. 


ODE  XI.— TO  LEUCONOE.* 

Horace  advises  Leuconoe  to  indulge  in  pleasure,  and  to  lay 
aside  her  anxiety  to  pry  into  futurity 

Strive  not,  Leuconoe,  to  pry 
Into  the  secret  will  of  fate, 

Nor  impious  magic  vainly  try 
To  know  our  lives’  uncertain  date  ; 

Whether  th’  indulgent  power  divine  5 

Hath  many  seasons  yet  in  store, 

Or  this  the  latest  winter  thine, 

Which  breaks  its  waves  against  the  shore. 

Thy  life  with  wiser  arts  be  crown’d, 

Thy  filter’d  wines  abundant  pour ;  10 

The  lengthen’d  hope  with  prudence  bound 
Proportion’d  to  the  flying  hour ; 

Even  while  we  talk  in  careless  ease, 

Our  envious  minutes  wing  their  flight ; 

Then  swift  the  fleeting  pleasure  seize,  15 
Nor  trust  to-morrow’s  doubtful  light. 

*  This  ode  has  much  good  sense  in  it  to  persuade  us  that  all 
the  arts  of  fortune-telling  are  a  ridiculous,  vain  imposture,  and 
that  true  wisdom  consists  in  our  enjoyment  of  the  present  hour, 
without  too  much  anxiety  for  the  future. — San. 

1  All  sciences  of  astrology  and  fortune-telling  were  forbidden, 
and  considered  as  impious  by  the  heathens  ;  but  the  words  mean 
also  that  impossibility  of  knowing  the  future  events  of  life,  and 
the  folly  of  tormenting  ourselves  to  discover  what  is  impenetra¬ 
ble  to  all  our  inquiries. — Cruq. 


ODE  XII.— HYMN  TO  JOVE. 

A  hymn  in  praise  of  gods  and  men. 

What  man,  what  hero;  on  the  tuneful  lyre, 
Or  sharp-toned  flute,  will  Clio  choose  to  raise 


BOOK  I. - ODE  XII.  33 

Deathless  to  fame?  What  god?  whose  hallow’d 
name 

The  sportive  image  of  the  voice 
Shall  in  the  shades  of  Helicon  repeat,  5 

On  Pindus,  or  on  Haemus,  ever  cool, 

From  whence  the  forests  in  confusion  rose 
To  follow  Orpheus  and  his  song : 

He,  by  his  mother’s  arts,  with  soft  delay 
Could  stop  the  river’s  rapid  lapse,  or  check  10 
The  winged  winds ;  with  strings  of  concord  sweet 
Powerful  the  listening  oaks  to  lead. 

Claims  not  th’  eternal  sire  his  wonted  praise  ? 

Awful  who  reigns  o’er  gods  and  men  supreme, 

Who  sea  and  earth — this  universal  globe  15 

With  grateful  change  of  seasons  guides ; 

From  whom  no  being  of  superior  power, 

Nothing  of  equal,  second  glory,  springs, 

Yet  first  of  all  his  progeny  divine 

Immortal  honours  Pallas  claims  :  20 

God  of  the  vine,  in  deeds  of  valour  bold, 

Fair  virgin  huntress  of  the  savage  race, 

And  Phcebus,  dreadful  with  unerring  dart, 

Nor  will  I  not  your  praise  proclaim. 

Alcides’  labours,  and  fair  Leda’s  twins,  25 

Famed  for  the  rapid  race,  for  wrestling  famed, 

Shall  grace  my  song  ;  soon  as  whose  star  benign 
Through  the  fierce  tempest  shines  serene, 

Swift  from  the  rocks  down  foams  the  broken  surge, 
Calm  are  the  winds,  the  driving  clouds  disperse,  30 
And  all  the  threat’ning  waves,  so  will  the  gods, 
Smooth  sink  upon  the  peaceful  deep. 

Here  stops  the  song,  doubtful  whom  next  to  praise, 
Or  Romulus,  or  Numa’s  peaceful  reign, 

34  We  have  in  the  following  lines  the  most  distinguished 
characters  of  the  Roman  story.  The  poet  is  doubtful  whether 
he  shall  give  the  preference  in  fame  to  Romulus,  who  founded 
the  monarchy  of  Rome  ;  to  Numa,  who  confirmed  it  by  the  arts 
of  peace ;  to  Tarquinius  Priscus,  who,  having  conquered  the 
people  of  Etruria,  introduced  the  usage  of  the  fasces,  which 


34 


HORACE. 


The  haughty  ensigns  of  a  Tarquin’s  throne,  35 
Or  Cato,  glorious  in  his  fall. 

Grateful  in  higher  tone  the  muse  shall  sing 
The  fate  of  Regulus,  the  Scaurian  race, 

And  Paulus,  mid  the  waste  of  Cannae’s  field, 

How  greatly  prodigal  of  life  !  40 

Form’d  by  the  hand  of  penury  severe, 

In  dwellings  suited  to  their  small  demain, 

Fabricius,  Curius,  and  Camillus  rose  ; 

To  deeds  of  martial  glory  rose 
Marcellus,  like  a  youthful  tree,  of  growth  45 

Insensible,  high  shoots  his  spreading  fame, 

And  like  the  moon,  the  feebler  fires  among, 
Conspicuous  shines  the  Julian  star. 

Saturnian  Jove,  parent  and  guardian  god 
Of  human  race,  to  thee  the  Fates  assign  50 

The  care  of  Caesar’s  reign  ;  to  thine  alone 
Inferior  let  his  empire  rise  ; 

Whether  the  Parthian’s  formidable  powers, 

Or  farthest  India’s  oriental  sons, 

With  suppliant  pride  beneath  his  triumph  fall,  55 
Wide  o’er  a  willing  world  shall  he 
Contented  reign,  and  to  the  throne  shall  bend 
Submissive.  Thou  in  thy  tremendous  car 
Shalt  shake  Olympus’  head,  and  at  our  groves 
Polluted  hurl  thy  dreadful  bolts.  60 

added  such  lustre  and  majesty  to  the  empire  ;  or  to  Cato,  who 
died  in  defence  of  liberty,  in  opposition  to  a  single  magistrate. 
Nor  should  we  be  surprised  that  Horace  mentions  the  defenders 
of  liberty  with  so  much  honour.  Virgil  has  done  the  same  in 
the  sixth  book  of  his  ./Eneid,  and  Cremutius  Codrus,  reciting 
his  works  to  Augustus,  called  Brutus  and  Cassius  “  the  last  of 
the  Romans.”  It  seems  to  have  been  an  established  maxim  of 
that  emperor  to  indulge  the  people  in  a  freedom  of  expressing 
in  general  their  sentiments  concerning  liberty,  that  they  might 
be  less  sensible  of  the  slavery  which  was  falling  on  them. — San. 


I 


BOOK  I. - ODE  XIV. 


35 


ODE  XIII.—' TO  LYDIA. 

Horace  describes  his  own  jealousy. 

Ah  !  when  on  Telephus  his  charms, 

When  on  his  rosy  neck,  and  waxen  arms, 

Lydia  with  ceaseless  rapture  dwells, 

With  jealous  spleen  my  glowing  bosom  swells, 

My  reason  in  confusion  flies,  5 

And  on  my  cheek  th’  uncertain  colour  dies, 

While  the  down-stealing  tear  betrays 
The  lingering  flame,  that  on  my  vitals  preys. 

I  burn,  when  in  excess  of  wine, 

Brutal,  he  soils  those  snowy  arms  of  thine,  10 
Or  on  thy  lips  the  fierce-fond  boy 
Impresses  with  his  teeth  the  furious  joy. 

If  yet  my  voice  can  reach  your  ear, 

Hope  not  to  find  him  constant  and  sincere, 

Cruel  who  hurts  the  fragrant  kiss,  14 

Which  Venus  bathes  with  quintessence  of  bliss. 

Thrice  happy  they,  whom  love  unites 
In  equal  rapture,  and  sincere  delights, 

Unbroken  by  complaints  or  strife, 

Even  to  the  latest  hours  of  life.  20 

ODE  XIV.— TO  THE  REPUBLIC.* 

The  poet  dissuades  the  Romans  from  reviving  the  civil  war. 
The  republic  is  represented  under  the  allegory  of  a  ship. 

Unhappy  vessel !  shall  the  waves  again 
Tumultuous  bear  thee  to  the  faithless  main  ? 

*  In  the  year  725  Augustus  consulted  his  favourites,  Maece¬ 
nas  and  Agrippa,  whether  he  should  resign  the  sovereign  au¬ 
thority.  We  have  in  Dion  a  speech  of  Maecenas  on  that  occa¬ 
sion,  in  which  the  allegory  of  a  ship  and  the  republic  is  so 
strongly  maintained,  and  has  something  so  extremely  like  this 


36 


HORACE. 


What  would  thy  madness,  thus  with  storms  to  sport  ? 
Cast  firm  your  anchor  in  the  friendly  port. 

Behold  thy  naked  decks:  the  wounded  mast  5 
And  sail-yards  groan  beneath  the  southern  blast, 
Nor  without  ropes  thy  keel  can  longer  brave 
The  rushing  fury  of  th’  imperious  wave  : 

Torn  are  thy  sails,  thy  guardian  gods  are  lost, 
Whom  you  might  call  in  future  tempests  toss’d.  10 
What  though  majestic  in  your  pride  you  stood 
A  noble  daughter  of  the  Pontic  wood, 

You  now  may  vainly  boast  an  empty  name, 

Or  birth  conspicuous  in  the  rolls  of  fame. 

The  mariner,  when  storms  around  him  rise,  15 
No  longer  on  a  painted  stern  relies. 

Ah !  yet  take  heed,  lest  these  new  tempests  sweep 
In  sportive  rage  thy  glories  to  the  deep. 

Thou  late  my  deep  anxiety  and  fear, 

And  now  my  fond  desire  and  tender  care,  20 

Ah !  yet  take  heed,  avoid  these  fatal  seas, 

That  roll  among  the  shining  Cyclades. 


ODE  XV.* 

Nereus’  prophecy  of  the  destruction  of  Troy. 

When  the  perfidious  shepherd  bore 
The  Spartan  dame  to  Asia’s  shore, 


ode,  that  probably  the  poet  took  his  design  from  thence  as  a 
compliment  to  his  illustrious  patron. 

*■  In  the  year  722  Antony  set  sail  with  a  numerous  fleet  from 
Egypt  to  Peloponnesus,  intending  to  pass  over  into  Italy  with 
Cleopatra,  and  make  his  country  the  scene  of  a  second  civil 
war.  Inflamed  with  a  violent  passion  for  that  princess,  aspiring 
to  nothing  less  than  making  her  mistress  of  the  universe,  and 
supported  by  the  forces  of  the  east,  he  declared  war  against 
Octavius.  Horace  therefore,  in  a  noble  and  poetical  allegory, 
represents  to  Antony  the  fatal  effects  of  such  conduct,  by  pro¬ 
posing  to  him  the  example  of  Paris,  and  the  ruinous  conse¬ 
quences  which  attended  his  passion  for  Helen. 


BOOK  I. - ODE  XV. 


37 


Nereus  the  rapid  winds  oppress’d, 

And  calm’d  them  to  unwilling  rest, 

That  he  might  sing  the  dreadful  fate  5 

Which  should  their  guilty  loves  await. 

Fatal  to  Priam’s  ancient  sway, 

You  bear  th’  ill-omen’d  fair  away, 

For  soon  shall  Greece  in  arms  arise, 
Deep-sworn  to  break  thy  nuptial  ties.  10 

What  toils  do  men  and  horse  sustain  ! 

WThat  carnage  loads  the  Dardan  plain ! 

Pallas  prepares  the  bounding  car, 

The  shield  and  helm  and  rage  of  war. 

Though  proud  of  Venus’  guardian  care,  15 
In  vain  you  comb  your  flowing  hair  ; 

In  vain  you  sweep  th’  unwarlike  string, 

And  tender  airs  to  females  sing; 

For  though  the  dart  may  harmless  prove 
(The  dart  that  frights  the  bed  of  love,)  20 
Though  you  escape  the  noise  of  fight, 

Nor  Ajax  can  o’ertake  thy  flight, 

Yet  shalt  thou,  infamous  of  lust, 

Soil  those  adulterous  hairs  in  dust. 

Look  back  and  see,  with  furious  pace,  25 
That  ruin  of  the  Trojan  race, 

Ulysses  drives,  and  sage  in  years 
Famed  Nestor,  hoary  chief,  appears. 

Intrepid  Teucer  sweeps  the  field, 

And  Sthenelus,  in  battle  skill’d ;  30 

Or  skill’d  to  guide  with  steady  rein, 

And  pour  his  chariot  o’er  the  plain. 

Undaunted  Merion  shalt  thou  feel, 

While  Diomed  with  furious  steel, 

15  Cleopatra  is  here  represented  under  the  character  of  Ve¬ 
nus.  The  court  of  that  princess  was  the  very  dwelling  of  lux¬ 
ury  and  pleasure,  where  Antony  plunged  himself  into  the  most 
infamous  excesses.  Hence  the  poet  raises  a  just  and  natural 
allusion  without  doing  violence  to  history.  Pallas  was  the 
guardian  of  Menelaus,  as  Venus  was  the  protectress  of  Paris. 
Thus  Octavia  supported  Caesar,  as  Cleopatra  appeared  in  de 
fence  of  Antony. — San. 

Hor.  Vol.  I. — D 


HORACE. 


38 


In  arms  superior  to  his  sire,  35 

Burns  after  thee  with  martial  fire. 

As  when  a  stag  at  distance  spies 
A  prowling  wolf,  aghast  he  flies, 

Of  pasture  heedless,  so  shall  you, 
High-panting,  fly  when  they  pursue.  40 

Not  such  the  promises  you  made, 

Which  Helen’s  easy  heart  betray’d 
Achilles’  fleet  with  short  delay, 

Vengeful  protracts  the  fatal  day, 

But  when  ten  rolling  years  expire,  45 

Thy  Troy  shall  blaze  in  Grecian  fire. 

\ 

ODE  XVI.— TO  TYNDARIS.* 

Horace  attempts  to  appease  Tyndaris,  after  having  lampooned 

her  mother  Gratidia. 

Daughter,  whose  loveliness  the  bosom  warms 
More  than  thy  lovely  mother’s  riper  charms, 

Give  to  my  bold  lampoons  what  fate  you  please, 

To  wasting  flames  condemn’d,  or  angry  seas. 

But  yet  rempmber,  nor  the  god  of  wine,  5 

Nor  Pythian  Phoebus,  from  his  inmost  shrine, 

Nor  Dindymene,  nor  her  priests  possess’d, 

Can  with  their  sounding  cymbals  shake  the  breast, 

Like  furious  anger  in  its  gloomy  vein, 

Which  neither  temper’d  sword,  nor  raging  main, 
Nor  fire  wide-wasting,  nor  tremendous  Jove,  11 
Rushing  in  baleful  thunders  from  above, 

*  Horace  had  written,  when  he  was  young,  some  severe 
verses  on  Gratidia,  but  being  now  in  love  with  her  daughter,  he 
gives  them  to  her  resentment  with  a  submission,  which  has, 
perhaps,  more  poetry  than  sincerity.  It  is  formed  in  very  loose, 
superficial  terms,  with  a  commonplace  on  the  effects  of  anger, 
which  seems  to  be  raised  with  an  affected  pomp  of  style  But 
whether  his  repentance  was  false  or  real,  we  find  in  the  next 
ode  that  it  was  not  unsuccessful. — Dac.  San. 


BOOK  I. - ODE  XVII. 


39 


Can  tame  to  fear.  Thus  sings  the  poet’s  lay — 
Prometheus  to  inform  his  nobler  clay 
Their  various  passions  chose  from  every  beast,  15 
And  with  the  lion’s  rage  inspired  the  human  breast. 

From  anger  all  the  tragic  horrors  rose, 

That  crush’d  Thyestes  with  a  weight  of  woes ; 
From  hence  proud  cities  date  their  utter  falls, 
When,  insolent  in  ruin,  o’er  their  walls  20 

The  wrathful  soldier  drags  the  hostile  plough, 

That  haughty  mark  of  total  overthrow. 

Me,  too,  in  youth  the  heat  of  anger  fired, 

And  with  the  rapid  rage  of  rhyme  inspired; 

But  now  repentant,  shall  the  muse  again 
To  softer  numbers  tune  her  melting  strain, 

So  thou  recall  thy  threats,  thy  wrath  control, 
Resume  thy  love,  and  give  me  back  my  soul. 

21  It  was  a  custom  among  the  Romans  to  drive  a  plough  over 
the  walls  of  a  city,  which  they  destroyed,  to  signify  that  the 
ground  on  which  it  stood  should  be  for  ever  employed  in  agri¬ 
culture. —  Torr. 


ODE  XVII.— TO  TYNDARIS.* 

Horace  invites  Tyndaris  to  a  safe  retreat  from  the  audacious¬ 
ness  of  Cyrus,  in  his  Sabine  villa. 

Pan  from  Arcadia’s  hills  descends 
To  visit  oft  my  Sabine  seat ; 

And  here  my  tender  goats  defends 
From  rainy  winds,  and  summer’s  fiery  heat ; 

*  Horace  having  by  the  last  ode  made  his  peace  with  Tyn 
daris,  now  invites  her  to  his  country-seat,  and  offers  her  a  re¬ 
tirement  and  security  from  the  brutality  of  Cyrus,  who  had 
treated  her  with  an  unmanly  rudeness  and  cruelty. — Cruq. 


/ 


40 


HORACE. 


For  when  the  vales,  wide-spreading  round  5 
The  sloping  hills,  and  polish’d  rocks 

With  his  harmonious  pipe  resound, 

In  fearless  safety  graze  my  wandering  flocks; 

In  safety,  through  the  woody  brake, 

The  latent  shrubs  and  thyme  explore,  10 

Nor  longer  dread  the  speckled  snake, 

And  tremble  at  the  martial  wolf  no  more. 

Their  poet  to  the  gods  is  dear  ; 

They  love  his  piety  and  muse  ; 

And  all  our  rural  honours  here  15 

Their  flow’ry  wealth  around  thee  shall  diffuse. 

Here  shall  you  tune  Anacreon’s  lyre, 

Beneath  a  shady  mountain’s  brow, 

To  sing  frail  Circe’s  guilty  fire, 

And  chaste  Penelope’s  unbroken  vow.  20 

Far  from  the  burning  dogstar’s  rage, 

Here  shall  you  quaff  our  harmless  wine ; 

Nor  here  shall  Mars  intemperate  wage 
Rude  war  with  him  who  rules  the  jovial  vine. 

Nor  Cyrus’  bold  suspicions  fear  ;  25 

Not  on  thy  softness  shall  he  lay 

His  desperate  hand,  thy  clothes  to  tear, 

Or  brutal  snatch  thy  festal  crown  away. 


ODE  XVIII.— TO  VARUS.* 

Horace  recommends  a  moderate  use  of  wine. 

Round  Catilus’  walls,  or  in  Tibur’s  rich  soil, 

To  plant  the  glad  vine  be  my  Varus’  first  toil; 

*  This  ode  is  an  imitation  of  one  written  by  Alcaeus  on  the 
same  subject,  and  in  the  same  kind  of  verse. 

It  is  remarkable  that  the  poet  begins  with  great  calmness  to 
describe  the  fatal  consequences  which  attend  our  excesses  in 


BOOK  I.  ODE  XVIII. 


41 


For  God  hath  proposed  to  the  wretch,  who’s  athirst, 
To  drink ;  or  with  heart-gnawing  cares  to  be  cursed. 
Of  war,  or  of  want,  who  e’er  prates  o’er  his  wine  1  5 
For  ’tis  thine,  Father  Bacchus  ;  bright  Venus,  ’tis 
thine, 

To  charm  all  his  cares ;  yet  that  no  one  may  pass 
The  freedom  and  mirth  of  a  temperate  glass, 

Let  us  think  on  the  Lapithae’s  quarrels  so  dire, 

And  the  Thracians,  whom  wine  can  to  madness 
inspire :  10 

Insatiate  of  liquor,  when  giow  their  full  veins, 

No  distinction  of  vice,  or  of  virtue  remains. 

Great  god  of  the  vine,  who  dost  candour  approve, 
I  ne’er  will  thy  statues  profanely  remove  ; 

I  ne’er  will  thy  rites,  so  mysterious,  betray  15 
To  the  broad- glaring  eye  of  the  tale-telling  day. 

Oh !  stop  the  loud  cymbal,  the  cornet’s  alarms, 
Whose  sound,  when  the  bacchanal’s  bosom  it  warms, 
Arouses  self-love,  by  blindness  misled, 

And  vanity,  lifting  aloft  the  light  head  ;  20 

And  honour,  of  prodigal  spirit,  that  shows, 
Transparent  as  glass,  all  the  secrets  it  knows. 


wine.  He  then  suddenly  falls  into  a  poetical  disorder,  which 
seems  almost  natural  to  his  subject,  and  which  breaks  forth  into 
stronger  ideas,  figurative  expressions,  and  a  style  broken  and 
unconnected.  Thus  the  difference  of  the  two  characters  which 
divide  this  ode  is  not  the  meanest  of  its  beauties,  and  the  tran¬ 
sition  from  one  to  the  other  is  natural  and  well  conducted. — 
Dac.  San. 

13  This  poetical  sally  is  admirable  yet,  sudden  as  it  is,  does 
not  transport  the  poet  out  ol  his  subject.  He  proposes  to  prac¬ 
tise  that  moderation  which  he  recommends  to  others,  and  in¬ 
treats  the  god  not  to  abandon  him  to  the  vices  with  which  he 
afflicts  those  who  profane  his  benefits  by  a  sacrilegious  abuse 
of  them. — San. 


D  2 


42 


HORACE. 


ODE  XIX.— ON  GLYCERA. 

Horace  acknowledges  that  he  is  inflamed  with  the  love  of 

Glycera. 

Venus,  who  gave  the  Cupids  birth, 

And  the  resistless  god  of  wine, 

With  the  gay  power  of  wanton  mirth, 

Now  bid  my  heart  its  peace  resign  ; 

Again  for  Glycera  I  burn,  5 

And  all  my  long-forgotten  flames  return. 

Like  Parian  marble,  pure  and  bright, 

The  shining  maid  my  bosom  warms : 

Her  face,  too  dazzling  for  the  sight, 

Her  sweet  coqueting — how  it  charms  !  10 

Whole  Venus  rushing  through  my  veins, 

No  longer  in  her  favourite  Cyprus  reigns ; 

No  longer  suffers  me  to  write 
Of  Scythians,  fierce  in  martial  deed ; 

Or  Parthian,  urging  in  his  flight  15 

The  battle  with  reverted  steed ; 

Such  themes  she  will  no  more  approve. 

Nor  aught  that  sounds  impertinent  to  love. 

Here  let  the  living  altar  rise 

Adorn’d  with  every  herb  and  flower ;  20 

Here  flame  the  incense  to  the  skies, 

And  purest  wine’s  libation  pour ; 

Due  honours  to  the  goddess  paid, 

Soft  sinks  to  willing  love  the  yielding  maid. 


BOOK  I. —  ODE  XX. 


43 


ODE  XX.— TO  MAECENAS.* 

.  i 

The  poet  promises  to  Maecenas  a  frugal  entertainment. 

A  poet’s  beverage,  vile,  and  cheap 
(Should  great  Maecenas  be  my  guest,) 

Crude  vintage  of  the  Sabine  grape, 

But  yet  in  sober  cups,  shall  crown  the  feast  : 

’Twas  rack’d  into  a  Grecian  cask,  5 

Its  rougher  juice  to  melt  away, 

I  seal’d  it  too — a  pleasing  task ! 

With  annual  joy  to  mark  the  glorious  day, 

When  in  applausive  shouts  thy  name 

Spread  from  the  theatre  around,  10 

Floating  on  thy  own  Tiber’s  stream, 

And  Echo,  playful  nymph,  return’d  the  sound. 

From  the  Caecubian  vintage  press’d 
For  you  shall  flow  the  racy  wine  ; 

But  ah!  my  meager  cup’s  unbless’d  15 

With  the  rich  Formian,  or  Falernian  vine. 

[The  reader  will  find  ode  xxi.  in  the  second  concert  of  the 
Secular  Poem,  at  the  end  of  the  Odes.] 


*  Whatever  pleasures  Horace  found  in  his  country-seat,  it  was 
very  ill  situated  for  a  poet,  who  was  by  no  means  an  enemy  to 
a  glass  of  good  wine.  He  therefore  tells  his  illustrious  guest, 
who  was  used  to  the  richest  wines  of  Greece  and  Italy,  that  he 
had  none  but  of  the  Sabine  growth,  and  seems  to  make  the 
frank  confession,  that  Maecenas  might  either  be  contented  with 
what  he  found,  or  rather,  that  he  should  bring  better  from 
Rome. — San. 


44 


HORACE. 


ODE  XXII.— TO  ARISTIUS  FUSCUS.* 

The  poet  attributes  the  preservation  of  his  life  to  conscious 
innocence  and  Lalage’s  favour. 

The  man,  who  knows  not  guilty  fear, 

Nor  wants  the  bow,  nor  pointed  spear; 

Nor  needs,  while  innocent  of  heart, 

The  quiver,  teeming  with  the  poison’d  dart ; 

Whether  through  Libya’s  burning  sands  5 
His  journey  leads,  or  Scythia’s  lands, 
Inhospitable  waste  of  snows, 

Or  where  the  fabulous  Hydaspes  flows  : 

For  musing  on  my  lovely  maid, 

While  careless  in  the  woods  I  stray’d,  10 
A  wolf — how  dreadful !  cross’d  my  way, 

Yet  fled — he  fled  from  his  defenceless  prey: 

No  beast  of  such  portentous  size  i 
In  warlike  Daunia’s  forests  lies  ; 

Nor  such  the  tawny  lion  reigns  15 

Fierce  on  his  native  Afric’s  thirsty  plains. 

*  Although  the  poet  seems  to  have  been  in  love  with  Lalage, 
yet  he  had  too  much  friendship  for  Aristius  to  be  his  rival.  He 
therefore  begins  this  ode  with  a  profession  of  his  innocence,  and 
integrity  of  manners,  to  convince  Aristius  that  he  ought  not  to 
be  jealous  even  while  he  is  praising  his  mistress. — Dac. 

1  The  first  cause,  to  which  the  poet  attributes  his  preserva¬ 
tion,  is  the  innocence  and  integrity  of  his  life  ;  and  he  is  of  too 
careless  and  unaffected  a  character  to  be  suspected  of  insin¬ 
cerity,  whatever  were  his  Epicurean  principles.  With  the 
worst  speculative  opinions,  a  man  may  be  morally  honest  and 
virtuous. 

4  The  Africans  were  obliged  to  poison  their  arrows  to  defend 
them  from  the  wild  beasts  with  which  their  country  was  in¬ 
fested.  This  poison  was  a  mixture  of  viper’s  and  human  blood, 
and  Pliny  tells  us  it  was  incurable. — Dac. 


BOOK  I. - ODE  XXIII. 


45 


Place  me  where  never  summer  breeze 
Unbinds  the  glebe,  or  warms  the  trees  ; 

Where  ever-lowering  clouds  appear, 

And  angry  Jove  deforms  th’  inclement  year :  20 

Place  me  beneath  the  burning  ray, 

Where  rolls  the  rapid  car  of  day ; 

Love  and  the  nymph  shall  charm  my  toils, 

The  nymph,  who  sweetly  speaks,  and  sweetly 
smiles. 


ODE  XXIII.—' TO  CHLOE. 

Chloe  being  now  marriagable,  Horace  reproves  her  affected 

coyness. 

Chloe  flies  me  like  a  fawn, 

Which  through  some  sequester’d  lawn 
Panting  seeks  the  mother  deer, 

Not  without  a  panic  fear 

Of  the  gently  breathing  breeze,  5 

And  the  motion  of  the  trees. 

If  the  curling  leaves  but  shake, 

If  a  lizard  stir  the  brake, 

Frighted  it  begins  to  freeze, 

Trembling  both  at  heart  and  knees.  10 

But  not  like  a  tiger  dire, 

Nor  a  lion,  fraught  with  ire, 

I  pursue  my  lovely  game 
To  destroy  her  tender  frame. 

1  We  have  a  very  pretty  imitation  of  these  lines  in  Spenser : 

Like  as  a  hind - 

Yet  flies  away,  of  her  own  feet  affear’d  ; 

And  every  leaf  that  shaketh  with  the  least 
Murmur  of  wind,  her  terrour  hath  encreast. 


46 


HORACE. 


ODE  XXIV.—1 TO  VIRGIL.* 

Horace  admonishes  his  friend  to  bear  with  patience  the  death 

of  Quintilius. 

/ 

Wherefore  restrain  the  tender  tear? 

Why  blush  to  weep  for  one  so  dear  1 
Sweet  muse,  of  melting  voice  and  lyre, 

Do  thou  the  mournful  song  inspire. 

Quintilius — sunk  to  endless  rest,  5 

With  Death’s  eternal  sleep  oppress’d  ! 

Oh!  when  shall  Faith,  of  soul  sincere, 

Of  .Justice  pure  the  sister  fair, 

And  Modesty,  unspotted  maid, 

And  Truth  in  artless  guise  array’d,  10 

Among  the  race  of  humankind 
An  equal  to  Quintilius  find  ? 

How  did  the  good,  the  virtuous  mourn, 

And  pour  their  sorrows  o’er  his  urn  1 

But,  Virgil,  thine  the  loudest  strain  ;  15 

Yet  all  thy  pious  grief  is  vain. 

In  vain  do  you  the  gods  implore 
Thy  loved  Quintilius  to  restore  ; 

Whom  on  far  other  terms  they  gave, 

By  nature  fated  to  the  grave.  20 

What  though  you  can  the  lyre  command, 
And  sweep  its  tones  with  softer  hand 
Than  Orpheus,  whose  harmonious  song 
Once  drew  the  listening  trees  along, 


*  There  Is  something-  very  artful,  and  yet  very  natural,  in  the 
opening  of  this  ode.  The  design  of  the  poet  is  to  comfort  Vir¬ 
gil  for  the  death  of  their  common  friend ;  but  instead  of  directly 
opposing  his  grief,  he  encourages  him  to  indulge  in  it  even  to 
excess.  He  sets  the  virtues  of  Quintilius  in  their  strongest  light, 
and  joins  with  Virgil  in  his  sorrows  for  the  loss  of  a  person  so 
extraordinary.  A  direct  opposition  of  reason  and  comfort  is  an 
insult  to  the  afflicted.  We  must  seem  to  feel  their  sorrow,  and 
make  it  our  own,  before  we  pretend  to  find  a  remedy  for  it 


BOOK  1. - ODE  XXV. 


47 

25 


Yet  ne’er  returns  the  vital  heat 
The  shadowy  form  to  animate  ; 

For  when  the  ghost-compelling  god 
Forms  his  black  troops  with  horrid  rod, 

He  will  not,  lenient  to  the  breath 
Of  prayer,  unbar  the  gates  of  death.  30 

’Tis  hard ;  but  patience  must  endure, 

And  sooth  the  woes  it  cannot  cure. 

25  The  theology  of  the  ancients  taught,  that  when  a  man  was 
dead,  his  soul,  or  the  spiritual  part  of  him,  went  to  heaven ;  that 
his  body  continued  in  the  earth ;  and  his  image  or  shadow  went 
to  hell.  The  image  was  a  corporal  part  of  the  soul,  a  kind  of 
subtle  body,  with  which  it  was  clothed. — San. 


ODE  XXV.—' TO  LYDIA. 


Horace  takes  occasion  to  contrast  the  former  haughtiness  and 
present  degradation  of  an  antiquated  belle. 

The  wanton  herd  of  rakes  profess’d, 

Thy  windows  rarely  now  molest 
With  midnight  raps,  or  break  thy  rest 

With  riot. 

The  door,  that  kindly  once  could  move  5 

The  pliant  hinge,  begins  to  love 

Tts  threshold,  and  no  more  shall  prove 

Unquiet. 

Now  less  and  less  assail  thine  ear 

These  plaints  :  “  Ah  !  sleepest  thou,  my  dear, 

While  I,  whole  nights,  thy  truelove  here  II 

Am  dying  V ’ 

You  in  your  turn  shall  weep  the  taunts 
Of  young  and  insolent  gallants, 

In  some  dark  alley’s  midnight  haunts 

Late  plying : 


15 


I 


48  HORACE. 

Our'youth,  regardless  of  thy  frown, 

Their  heads  with  fresher  wreaths  shall  crown 
And  fling  thy  wither’d  garlands  down 

The  river.  20 


ODE  XXVI.— TO  HIS  MUSE. 

The  poet  implores  his  muse  to  enable  him  to  celebrate  the 

praises  of  Lamia. 

While  in  the  muse’s  friendship  bless’d, 

Nor  fear,  nor  grief,  shall  break  my  rest ; 

Bear  them,  ye  vagrant  winds,  away, 

And  drown  them  in  the  Cretan  sea. 

Careless  am  I,  or  who  shall  reign  5 

The  tyrant  of  the  Scythian  plain ; 

Or  with  what  anxious  fear  oppress’d, 

Heaves  Tiridates’  panting  breast. 

Sweet  muse,  who  lov’st  the  virgin  spring, 
Hither  thy  sunny  flow’rets  bring,  10 

And  let  thy  richest  chaplet  shed 
Its  fragrance  round  my  Lamia’s  head, 

For  naught  avails  the  poet’s  praise 
Unless  the  muse  inspire  his  lays. 

Oh  !  string  the  Lesbian  lyre  again,  15 

Let  all  thy  sisters  raise  the  strain, 

And  consecrate  to  deathless  fame 
My  loved,  my  Lamia’s  honour’d  name. 

<.  . 

ODE  XXVII.— TO  HIS  COMPANIONS.* 

Horace  exhorts  his  companions  to  refrain  from  wrangling  over 

their  liquor. 

With  glasses,  made  for  gay  delight, 

’Tis  Thracian,  savage  rage  to  fight. 

*  Horace  was  at  an  entertainment,  when  a  dispute  began  to 
inflame  some  of  the  company,  already  heated  with  wine.  In¬ 
stead  of  endeavouring  to  restore  peace  by  grave  advice  and 


BOOK  I. — ODE  XXVII. 


49 


With  such  intemperate,  bloody  fray, 

Fright  not  the  modest  god  away. 

Monstrous  !  to  see  the  dagger  shine  5 

Amid  the  midnight  joys  of  wine. 

Here  bid  this  impious  clamour  cease, 

And  press  the  social  couch  in  peace. 

Say,  shall  I  drink  this  heady  wine, 

Press’d  from  the  rough  Falernian  vine  t  10 
Instant,  let  yonder  youth  impart 
The  tender  story  of  his  hegrt, 

By  what  dear  wound  he  blissful  dies, 

And  whence  the  gentle  arrow  flies. 

What !  does  the  bashful  boy  deny  ?  15 

Then,  if  I  drink  it  let  me  die. 

Whoe’er  she  be,  a  generous  flame 
Can  never  know  the  blush  of  shame. 

Thy  breast  no  slave-born  Venus  fires, 

But  fair,  ingenuous  love  inspires.  20 

Then  safely  whisper  in  my  ear, 

For  all  such  trusts  are  sacred  here. 

Ah !  worthy  of  a  better  flame  ! 

Unhappy  youth  !  is  she  the  dame  1 
Unhappy  youth  !  how  art  thou  lost,  25 

In  what  a  sea  of  troubles  toss’d ! 

What  drugs,  what  witchcraft,  or  what  charms, 
What  god  can  free  thee  from  her  arms  J 
Scarce  Pegasus  can  disengage 
Thy  heart  from  this  Chimaera’s  rage.  30 

sober  reasoning,  he  makes  them  a  gay  proposal  of  drowning  all 
quarrels  in  a  bumper.  It  was  cheerfully  received,  and  probably 
the  success  of  it  made  the  poet  think  it  worthy  of  being  the 
subject  of  an  ode. — San. 

9  Athenaeus  tells  us  there  were  two  kinds  of  Falernian  wine  ; 
one,  strong  and  heady ;  the  other,  smooth  and  sweet.  The  poet 
therefore  offers  to  drink  a  cup  of  the  stronger  kind,  though  he 
knew  the  strength  of  it,  to  show  at  what  expense  he  would  re¬ 
cover  the  good-humour  of  the  company. 

Hor.  Vol.  I. — E 


50 


HORACE 


ODE  XXVIII. 

A  MARINER  AND  THE  GHOST  OF  ARCHYTAS. 

Under  the  form  of  a  dialogue  between  a  sailor  and  the  ghost 
of  Archytas,  he  ridicules  the  opinions  of  the  Pythagoreans, 
and  recommends  the  care  of  the  burial  of  the  dead. 

*  f 

Mariner.  Archytas,  what  avails  thy  nice  survey 
Of  ocean’s  countless  sands,  of  earth  and  sea  1 
In  vain  thy  mighty  spirit  once  could  soar 
To  orbs  celestial,  and  their  course  explore  ; 

If  here,  upon  the  tempest-beaten  strand,  5 

You  lie  confined,  till  some  more  liberal  hand 
Shall  strow  the  pious  dust  in  funeral  rite, 

And  wing  thee  to  the  boundless  realms  of  light. 
Ghost.  Even  he,  who  did  with  gods  the  banquet 
share, 

Tithonus,  raised  to  breathe  celestial  air,  10 

And  Minos,  Jove’s  own  counsellor  of  state, 

All  these  have  yielded  to  the  power  of  fate. 

M.  Even  your  own  sage,  whose  monumental 
shield, 

Borne  through  the  terrors  of  the  Trojan  field, 
Proved  that  alone  the  mouldering  body  dies,  15 
And  souls  immortal  from  our  ashes  rise, 

Even  he  a  second  time  resign’d  his  breath, 

Sent  headlong  to  the  gloomy  realms  of  death. 

G.  Not  meanly  skill’d,  even  by  your  own  ap¬ 
plause, 

In  moral  truth,  and  Nature’s  secret  laws.  20 

One  endless  night  for  all  mankind  remains, 

And  once  we  all  must  tread  the  shadowy  plains. 

6  The  ancients  believed  that  the  souls,  whose  bodies  were  left 
unburied,  were  not  permitted  to  pass  over  the  river  Styx,  but 
wandered  a  hundred  years  on  its  banks.  In  allusion  to  this 
opinion  Horace  says,  “  A  little  present  of  dust  detains  you 
that  is,  you  are  detained  from  the  Elysian  fields  for  want  of  a 
little  present  of  dust. 


BOOK  I. - ODE  XXIX. 


51 


In  horrid  pomp  of  war  the  soldier  dies  ; 

The  sailor  in  the  greedy  ocean  lies ; 

Thus  age  and  youth  promiscuous  crowd  the  tomb  : 
No  mortal  head  can  shun  th’  impending  doom.  26 
When  sets  Orion’s  star,  the  winds,  that  sweep 
The  raging  waves,  o’erwhelm’d  me  in  the  deep  : 
Nor  thou,  my  friend,  refuse  with  impious  hand 
A  little  portion  of  this  wandering  sand  30 

To  these  my  poor  remains ;  so  may  the  storm 
Rage  o’er  the  woods,  nor  ocean’s  face  deform  : 

May  gracious  Jove  with  wealth  thy  toils  repay, 

And  Neptune  guard  thee  through  the  watery  way. 

Thy  guiltless  race  this  bold  neglect  shall  mourn, 
And  thou  shalt  feel  the  just  returns  of  scorn.  36 
My  curses  shall  pursue  the  guilty  deed, 

And  all,  in  vain,  thy  richest  victims  bleed. 

Whatever  thy  haste,  oh  !  let  my  prayer  prevail, 
Thrice  strow  the  sand,  then  hoist  the  flying  sail.  40 

26  In  allusion  to  a  superstition  of  the  ancients,  who  believed 
that  no  person  could  die  until  Proserpine  or  Atropos  had  cut  off 
a  lock  of  his  hair.  This  ceremony  was  considered  as  a  kind  of 
first  fruits  consecrated  to  Pluto. —  Torr. 

40  It  was  sufficient  for  all  the  rites  of  sepulture  that  dust 
should  be  thrice  thrown  on  an  unburied  body. —  Torr.  Dac. 


ODE  XXIX.— TO  ICCIUS.* 

The  poet  banters  Iccius  for  leaving  his  study  of  philosophy  to 

become  a  soldier. 

4 

Iccius,  the  bless’d  Arabia’s  gold 
Can  you  with  envious  eye  behold  ? 

*  In  the  year  729  Augustus  sent  an  army  against  the  Ara¬ 
bians.  The  expedition  was  unsuccessful  by  an  unusual  sickness 
among  the  soldiers.  Horace,  with  a  good  deal  of  pleasantry, 
ridicules  Iccius  for  leaving  the  quiet  and  easy  study  of  philoso¬ 
phy  to  pursue  the  dangers  and  fatigues  of  war,  while  he  sup¬ 
poses  him  to  meditate  some  mighty  proofs  of  his  courage,  and  to 
subdue  all  Arabia  in  his  first  campaign. — San. 


52 


HORACE. 


Or  will  you  boldly  take  the  field, 

And  teach  Sabaea’s  kings  to  yield, 

Or  meditate  the  dreadful  Mede  5 

In  chains  triumphantly  to  lead  1 
Should  you  her  hapless  lover  slay, 

What  captive  maid  shall  own  thy  sway  1 
What  courtly  youth  with  essenced  hair 
Shall  at  thy  board  the  goblet  bear,  10 

Skilful  with  his  great  father’s  art 
To  wing  with  death  the  pointed  dart  I 
Who  shall  deny  that  streams  ascend, 

And  Tiber’s  currents  backward  bend, 

When  you  have  all  our  hopes  betray’d ;  15 

You,  that  far  other  promise  made  ; 

When  all  your  volumes,  learned  store ! 

The  treasures  of  Socratic  lore, 

Once  bought  at  mighty  price,  in  vain, 

Are  sent  to  purchase  arms  in  Spain  1  20 


ODE  XXX.— TO  VENUS.* 

Horace  invokes  Venus  to  be  present  at  Glycera’s  private 

sacrifice. 

Queen  of  beauty,  queen  of  smiles, 

Leave,  oh !  leave  thy  favourite  isles  : 

A  temple  rises  to  thy  fame 
Where  Glycera  invokes  thy  name, 

And  bids  the  fragrant  incense  flame.  5 

With  thee  bring  thy  love-warm  son, 

The  graces  bring  with  flowing  zone, 

*  The  versification  and  images  of  this  little  ode  are  beautiful 
and  harmonious ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  have  given  Venus  a  more 
gallant,  as  well  as  modest  retinue.  We  may  conjecture,  not 
without  probability,  that  it  was  written  when  Horace  was  about 
six-and-forty  years  of  age. — San. 

7  The  Graces  were  the  most  amiable  divinities  of  the  hea 
then  mythology.  They  presided  over  benefits,  and  the  grati¬ 
tude  due  to  them;  they  bestowed  liberality,  wisdom,  and 


BOOK  I. - ODE  XXXI. 


53 


The  nymphs,  and  jocund  M'ercury, 

And  sprightly  youth,  who  without  thee 
Is  naught  but  savage  liberty.  10 

;,Ul.  .  »\  J 

$ 

ODE  XXXI.— TO  APOLLO.* 

Horace  asserts  that  a  sound  state  of  the  body  and  mind,  to¬ 
gether  with  a  taste  for  poetry,  exceeds  all  other  blessings  of 
hie. 


When  at  Apollo’s  hallow’d  shrine 
The  poet  hails  the  power  divine, 

And  here  his  first  libations  pours, 

What  is  the  blessing  he  implores  1 

He  nor  desires  the  swelling  grain,  5 

That  yellows  o’er  Sardinia’s  plain ; 

Nor  the  fair  herds,  that  lowing  feed 
On  warm  Calabria’s  flowery  mead ; 

Nor  ivory,  of  spotless  shine  ; 

Nor  gold,  forth-flaming  from  its  mine  ;  10 

eloquence ;  they  dispensed  that  gayety  of  humour,  that  easi¬ 
ness  of  manners,  and  all  those  amiable  qualities,  which  render 
society  delightful  and  pleasurable.  They  alone  could  give  that 
certain  happiness  of  manner,  which  we  all  can  understand,  yet 
no  one  is  able  to  express ;  which  often  supplies  the  place  of 
real  merit,  and  without  which  merit  itself  is  imperfect.  To 
temper  the  vivacity  of  Cupid,  the  Graces  are  here  made  his 
companions,  and  appear  with  their  garments  flowing  and  un¬ 
girded,  to  show  that  the  festival  should  be  celebrated  with  the 
greatest  modesty  and  discretion. — San. 

*  We  have  in  this  ode  a  fund  of  morality  sufficient  to  prove 
the  vanity  of  our  desires,  and  the  worthlessness  of  what  we 
usually  call  business.  Reason  and  nature  know  but  few  ne¬ 
cessities,  while  avarice  and  ambition  are  for  ever  finding  out 
imaginary  wants. 

In  the  year  726  Octavius  dedicated  to  Apollo  a  library  and 
temple  in  his  palace  on  mount  Palatine,  which  having  been 
struck  with  lightning,  the  augurs  said  the  god  demanded  that 
it  should  be  consecrated  to  him.  Horace  was  then  thirty-nine 
years  old. — San. 


54 


HORACE. 


Nor  the  rich  fields,  that  Liris  laves, 

And  eats  away  with  silent  waves. 

Let  others  quaff  the  racy  wine, 

To  whom  kind  fortune  gives  the  vine ; 

The  golden  goblet  let  him  drain  15 

Who  vent’rous  ploughs  the  Atlantic  main, 
Bless’d  with  three  safe  returns  a  year, 

For  he  to  every  god  is  dear. 

To  me  boon  Nature  frankly  yields 
Her  wholesome  sallad  from  the  fields  ;  20 

Nor  ask  I  more,  than  sense  and  health 
Still  to  enjoy  my  present  wealth. 

From  age  and  all  its  weakness  free, 

O  son  of  Jove,  preserved  by  thee, 

Give  me  to  strike  the  tuneful  lyre,  25 

And  thou  my  latest  song  inspire  ! 

17  When  the  poet  has  described  a  crowd  of  votaries  who 
fatigue  the  god  with  their  petitions,  he  now  prefers  his  own 
prayer,  in  which  his  wishes  are  bounded  by  good  sense  and 
modesty.  He  leaves  to  others  the  views  of  an  imaginary  hap¬ 
piness,  and  wisely  asks  for  the  real  blessings  which  he  is  capa¬ 
ble  of  enjoying.  “  Oh,  ye  gods,”  says  a  wise  heathen,  “  deny  us 
what  we  ask  if  it  shall  be  hurtful  to  us,  and  grant  us  whatever 
shall  be  profitable  for  us,  even  though  we  do  not  ask  it 


ODE  XXXII.— TO  HIS  LYRE.* 

Being  desired  to  write  a  secular  ode,  Horace  invokes  his  lyre 
to  assist  him  with  strains  equal  to  the  subject. 

If  with  thee  beneath  the  shade 
Many  an  idle  air  I  play’d, 

*  Augustus  commanded  Horace  to  write  the  secular  poem. 
The  poet,  justly  sensible  of  an  honour  which  declared  him  the 
first  lyric  poet  of  his  age,  in  this  ode  invokes  his  lyre  to  in¬ 
spire  him  with  something  worthy  of  such  a  mark  of  distinction, 
and  which  might  deserve  the  care  and  regard  of  posterity. — 
Hamdvus.  San. 


BOOK  1. - ODE  XXXIII. 


55 


Now  the  Latian  song,  my  lyre, 

With  some  immortal  strain  inspire, 

Such  as  once  Alcaeus  sung,  5 

Who,  fierce  in  war,  thy  music  strung, 

When  he  heard  the  battle  roar, 

Or  moor’d  his  sea-toss’d  vessel  on  the  shore. 
Wine  and  the  muses  were  his  theme, 

And  Venus,  laughter-loving  dame, 

With  Cupid  ever  by  her  side,  10 

And  Lycus,  form’d  in  beauty’s  pride, 

With  his  hair  of  jetty  dye, 

And  the  black  lustre  of  his  eye. 

Charming  shell,  Apollo’s  love, 

How  grateful  to  the  feasts  of  Jove!  15 

Hear  thy  poet’s  solemn  prayer, 

Thou  soft’ner  of  each  anxious  care. 


ODE  XXXIII.— TO  ALBIUS  TIBULLUS. 

Horace  endeavours  to  console  Tibullus  by  instancing  others 
who  were  in  love  without  a  mutual  return. 

No  more  in  elegiac  strain 
Of  cruel  Glycera  complain, 

Though  she  resign  her  faithless  charms 
To  a  new  lover’s  younger  arms. 

The  maid,  for  lovely  forehead  famed,  5 

With  Cyrus’  beauties  is  inflamed ; 

While  Pholoe,  of  haughty  charms, 

The  panting  breast  of  Cyrus  warms ; 

But  wolves  and  goats  shall  sooner  prove 
The  pleasures  of  forbidden  love  10 

Than  she  her  virgin  honour  stain, 

And  not  the  filthy  rake  disdain. 

So  Venus  wills,  whose  power  controls 
The  fond  affections  of  our  souls ; 

With  sportive  cruelty  she  binds  15 

Unequal  forms,  unequal  minds. 


f 


56 


HORACE. 


Thus,  when  a  better  Venus  strove 
To  warm  my  youthful  breast  to  love, 

Yet  could  a  slave-born  maid  detain 
My  willing  heart  in  pleasing  chain,  20 

Though  fiercer  she  than  waves  that  roar 
Winding  the  rough  Calabrian  shore. 

/ 

ODE  XXXIV.* 

In  a  pretended  recantation,  Horace  overthrows  the  arguments  in 
favour  of  the  providence  of  the  gods. 

A  fugitive  from  heaven  and  prayer, 

I  mock’d  at  all  religious  fear, 

Deep  scienced  in  the  mazy  lore 
Of  mad  philosophy ;  but  now 
Hoist  sail,  and  back  my  voyage  plough  5 
To  that  bless’d  harbour  which  I  left  before. 

For  lo  !  that  awful  heavenly  sire, 

Who  frequent  cleaves  the  clouds  with  fire, 
Parent  of  day,  immortal  Jove  ! 

Late  through  the  floating  fields  of  air,  10 
The  face  of  heaven  serene  and  fair, 

His  thund’ring  steeds,  and  winged  chariot  drove ; 

*  The  commentators  are  much  divided  about  the  design  and 
intention  of  this  ode;  whether  the  poet  has  made  a  sincere 
recantation  of  the  Epicurean  philosophy,  or  whether  he  laughs 
at  the  stoics  by  a  pretended  conversion  to  their  doctrine.  The 
last  opinion  is  supported  by  the  following  reasons. 

If  Horace  really  abjured  the  sect  of  Epicurus,  it  must  have 
been  in  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life,  as  appears  by  the  fourth 
epistle  of  the  first  book ;  and  as  it  was  a  frequent  argument 
against  atheists,  that  although  clouds  are  naturally  the  cause 
of  thunder,  yet  it  is  sometimes  heard  in  a  clear  sky.  Horace 
must  have  early  known  an  instance  of  this  kind  of  reasoning, 
as  well  as  the  stoical  conclusion  drawn  from  it.  But,  besides 
the  weakness  of  the  reason  which  he  gives  for  changing  his 
religious  principles,  it  is  a  little  extraordinary  that  we  should 
not  have  any  other  the  least  proof  of  his  conversion  in  his  whole 
works. 


BOOK  I. - ODE  XXXV. 


57 


When,  at  the  bursting  of  his  flames, 

The  ponderous  earth,  and  vagrant  streams, 
Infernal  Styx,  the  dire  abode  15 

Of  hateful  Tsenarus  profound, 

And  Atlas  to  his  utmost  bound, 

Trembled  beneath  the  terrors  of  the  god. 

The  hand  of  Jove  can  crush  the  proud 
Down  to  the  meanest  of  the  crowd,  20 

And  raise  the  lowest  in  his  stead ; 

But  rapid  fortune  pulls  him  down, 

And  snatches  his  imperial  crown, 

To  place,  not  fix  it,  on  another’s  head. 


ODE  XXXV.— TO  FORTUNE.* 

Our  poet  prays  for  Augustus,  the  commonwealth,  and  the  Ro¬ 
man  armies. 

Goddess,  whom  Antium,  beauteous  town,  obeys, 
Whose  various  will  with  instant  power  can  raise 
Frail  mortals  from  the  depths  of  low  despair, 

Or  change  proud  triumphs  to  the  funeral  tear ; 

Thee,  the  poor  farmer,  who  with  ceaseless  pain  5 
Labours  the  glebe ;  thee,  mistress  of  the  main, 

*  The  subject  of  this  ode  is  perfectly  noble,  well  designed, 
and  well  executed.  Its  versification  is  flowing  and  harmonious, 
its  expression  bold  and  sublime. 

In  the  year  719  Augustus  was  on  his  march  to  Britain,  but 
was  recalled  by  a  revolt  of  the  Dalmatians.  '  In  727,  having 
ended  the  civil  wars  by  the  defeat  of  Antony,  he  again  resolved 
to  turn  his  arms  against  that  island,  but  was  satisfied  with  an 
embassy  from  thence,  and  a  promise  of  obedience  to  any  con¬ 
ditions  which  he  pleased  to  impose  on  them.  These  conditions 
not  being  well  observed  he  was  determined  to  make  the  Britons 
feel  the  effects  of  his  displeasure,  yet  was  again  obliged  to  em¬ 
ploy  the  forces  of  the  republic  in  suppressing  an  insurrection 
of  the  Sallassi,  Cantabri,  and  Austrii. — San. 

It  is  indifferent  on  which  of  these  occasions  this  ode  was 
written,  and  it  is  impossible  to  determine  with  any  exactness. 


58 


HORACE. 


The  sailor,  who  with  fearless  spirit  dares 
The  rising  tempest,  courts  with  anxious  prayers . 

Thee,  the  rough  Dacian,  thee,  the  vagrant  band 
Of  field-born  Scythians,  Latium’s  warlike  land,  10 
Cities  and  nations,  mother-queens  revere, 

And  purple  tyranny  beholds  with  fear. 

Nor  in  thy  rage  with  foot  destructive  spurn 
This  standing  pillar,  and  its  strength  o’erturn ; 

Nor  let  the  nations  rise  in  bold  uproar,  15 

And  civil  war,  to  break  th’  imperial  power. 

With  solemn  pace  and  firm,  in  awful  state 
Before  thee  stalks  inexorable  Fate, 

And  grasps  empaling  nails,  and  wedges  dread, 

The  hook  tormentous,  and  the  melted  lead :  20 

Thee,  hope  and  honour,  now,  alas,  how  rare ! 

With  white  enrobed,  attend  with  duteous  care, 
When  from  the  palace  of  the  great  you  fly 
In  angry  mood,  and  garb  of  misery. 

Not  such  the  crowd  of  light  companions  prove,  25 
Nor  the  false  mistress  of  a  wanton  love, 

Faithless  who  wait  the  lowest  dregs  to  drain, 

Nor  friendships  equal  yoke  with  strength  sustain. 

Propitious  guard  our  Caesar,  who  explores 

His  venturous  way  to  farthest  Britain’s  shore  ;  30 

Our  new-raised  troops  be  thy  peculiar  care, 

Who  dreadful  to  the  east  our  banners  bear. 

23  This  passage  has  some  difficulty.  Fortune  never  leaves 
any  person.  When  she  is  favourable,  the  poet  represents  her 
under  the  idea  of  a  woman  finely  dressed,  who  fills  her  house 
with  happiness  and  abundance  ;  but  when  she  changes  her 
temper,  she  is  represented  as  changing  her  dress,  and  leaving 
the  house  to  destruction  and  misery.  Thus  she  still  continues 
a  companion,  even  to  them  whom  she  has  rendered  miserable. — • 
Dac. 

31  In  the  end  of  the  year  727  iElius  Gallus  marched  with 


BOOK  I. - ODE  XXXVI.  59 

Alas  !  the  shameless  scars !  the  guilty  deeds, 

When  by  a  brother’s  hand  a  brother  bleeds ! 

What  crimes  have  we,  an  iron  age,  not  dared  1  35 

In  terror  of  the  gods  what  altar  spared  1 

Oh !  that  our  swords  with  civil  gore  distain’d, 

And  in  the  sight  of  gods  and  men  profaned — 
Sharpen  again,  dread  queen,  the  blunted  steel, 

And  let  our  foes  the  pointed  vengeance  feel.  40 


'  i 

ODE  XXXVI.* 

Horace  congratulates  Numida  on  his  happy  return  from  Spain. 

With  incense  heap  the  sacred  fire, 

And  bolder  strike  the  willing  lyre. 

Now  let  the  heifer’s  votive  blood 
Pour  to  the  gods  its  purple  flood ; 

Those  guardian  gods,  from  farthest  Spain,  5 
WTho  send  our  Numida  again. 

A  thousand  kisses  now  he  gives, 

A  thousand  kisses  he  receives. 

But  Lamia  most  his  friendship  proves ; 

Lamia  with  tenderness  he  loves.  10 

At  school  their  youthful  love  began, 

Whence  they  together  rose  to  man. 

With  happiest  marks  the  day  shall  shine, 

Nor  want  th’  abundant  joy  of  wine ; 

an  army  to  succeed  Cornelius  in  the  government  of  Egypt,  and 
as  he  wanted  a  fleet  for  his  expeditions  against  the  Arabians, 
he  ordered  a  number  of  ships  to  be  built  in  the  ports  of  the  Red 
Sea.  As  this  army  alarmed  all  the  countries  of  the  east,  so  the 
Romans  had  the  greatest  expections  that  it  would  revenge  all 
the  insults  which  the  republic  had  received  from  the  Parthians. 

*  It  is  probable  that  this  ode  was  written  in  the  year  730,  when 
Numida  returned  with  Augustus  from  the  war  of  Spain;  and 
we  may  judge  with  how  much  tenderness  Horace  loved  his 
friends,  when  he  celebrated  their  return  with  sacrifices,  dances, 
and  songs. — San. 


60 


HORACE. 


Like  Salian  priests  the  dance  we’ll  lead,  15 
And  many  a  mazy  measure  tread. 

Now  let  the  Thracian  goblet  foam, 

Nor  in  the  breathless  draught  o’ercome 
Shall  Bassus  yield  his  boasted  name 
To  Damalis,  of  tippling  fame.  20 

Here  let  the  rose  and  lilly  shed 
Their  short-lived  bloom  ;  let  parsley  spread 
Its  living  verdure  o’er  the  feast, 

And  crown  with  mingled  sweets  the  guest. 

On  Damalis  each  amorous  boy  25 

Shall  gaze  with  eyes  that  flow  with  joy, 

While  she,  as  curls  the  ivy  plant, 

Shall  twine  luxuriant  round  her  new  gallant. 

18  This  signifies  a  custom  among  the  Thracians  of  drinking 
a  certain  measure  of  wine  without  closing  the  lips  or  taking 
breath. — Lamb. 

20  The  ancient  Romans  had  such  an  abhorrence  of  a  woman’s 
drinking  to  excess,  that  the  laws  of  the  twelve  tables  permitted 
a  husband  to  punish  his  wife  with  death  who  was  guilty  of  that 
crime. — San. 

26  The  eye,  by  excess  of  wine,  is  loose  and  flowing,  or  almost 
dissolved  and  broken.  As  love  has  the  same  effect,  Anacreon 
desires  a  painter  to  draw  the  eyes  of  his  mistress,  like  those  of 
Venus,  “flowing  in  moisture.” — Turner. 


ODE  XXXVII. — TO  HIS  COMPANIONS.* 

Horace  exhorts  his  companions  to  rejoice  on  account  of 
Cleopatra’s  death. 

Now  let  the  bowl  with  wine  be  crown’d, 

Now  lighter  dance  the  mazy  round, 

And  let  the  sacred  couch  be  stored 
WTith  the  rich  dainties  of  a  priestly  board. 

*  The  death  of  Cleopatra  put  an  end  to  the  war  between  Oc. 
tavius  and  Antony.  Horace  composed  six  odes  on  this  subject, 
and  although  this  be  the  last,  yet  it  is  not  the  least  beautiful. 


X 


BOOK  I. - ODE  XXXVII. 


61 

Sooner  to  draw  the  mellow’d  wine,  5 

„  Pressed  from  the  rich  Caecubian  vine, 

Were  impious  mirth,  while  yet  elate 
The  queen  breathed  ruin  to  the  Roman  state. 

Surrounded  by  a  tainted  train, 

Wretches  enervate  and  obscene,  10 

She  raved  of  empire — nothing  less — 

Vast  in  her  hopes,  and  giddy  with  success. 

But,  hardly  rescued  from  the  flames, 

One  lonely  ship  her  fury  tames  ; 

While  Caesar,  with  impelling  oar,  15 

Pursued  her  flying  from  the  Latian  shore : 

Her,  with  Egyptian  wine  inspired, 

With  the  full  draught  to  madness  fired, 
Augustus  sobered  into  tears, 

And  turned  her  visions  into  real  fears.  20 

As,  darting  sudden  from  above, 

The  hawk  attacks  a  tender  dove ; 

Or  sweeping  huntsman  drives  the  hare 
O’er  wide  ASmonia’s  icy  deserts  drear; 

As  if  the  success  of  Octavius  had  given  him  new  strength,  the 
poet  and  hero  are  equally  triumphant.  The  character  of  Cleo¬ 
patra  is  perfectly  finished,  and  her  death  represented  in  very 
natural  and  lively  colours.  All  her  passions  are  in  violent  mo¬ 
tion  ;  her  ambition  is  drunkenness — her  love  is  madness — and 
her  courage  is  despair ;  while  the  soul  of  the  poet  seems  to  be 
animated  with  all  her  transports,  which  break  forth  into  a  gran¬ 
deur  of  sentiments,  a  boldness  of  figures,  and  an  energy  of  ex¬ 
pression. —  Torr.  San. 

13  The  fleet  of  Antony,  even  after  his  flight,  made  such  an 
obstinate  resistance,  as  obliged  Augustus  to  send  for  fire  from 
his  camp  to  destroy  it. — Dac. 

16  Cleopatra  left  Egypt  with  a  numerous  and  formidable  fleet, 
and  sailed,  as  to  a  certain  conquest,  towards  Italy,  which,  from 
being  an  object  of  her  hopes,  was  now  become  a  scene  of  terror, 
from  which  she  fled,  in  the  greatest  disorder,  with  all  the  speed 
of  sails  and  oars. — San. 

Hor.  Vol.  I.» — F 


62 


HORACE. 


So  Caesar  through  the  billows  press’d  25 
To  lead  in  chains  the  fatal  pest : 

But  she  a  nobler  fate  explored, 

Nor  woman-like  beheld  the  deathful  sword, 

Nor  with  her  navy  fled  dismay’d, 

In  distant  realms  to  seek  for  aid ;  30 

But  saw  unmoved  her  state  destroy’d, 

Her  palace  desolate — a  lonely  void. 

With  fearless  hand  she  dared  to  grasp 
The  writhings  of  the  wrathful  asp, 

And  suck  the  poison  through  her  veins,  35 
Resolved  on  death,  and  fiercer  from  its  pains : 

Then,  scorning  to  be  led  the  boast 
Of  mighty  Caesar’s  naval  host, 

And  armed  with  more  than  mortal  spleen, 
Defrauds  a  triumph,  and  expires  a  queen.  40 

26  Octavius  had  given  particular  directions  to  Proculeius  and 
Epaphrodidus  to  take  Cleopatra  alive,  that  he  might  make  him¬ 
self  master  of  her  treasures,  and  have  the  glory  of  leading  her 
in  triumph.  Justly  sensible  of  this  ignominy,  she  had  reserved 
a  dagger  for  her  last  extremities ;  and  when  she  saw  Proculeius 
enter,  she  raised  it  to  stab  herself,  but  he  dexterously  wrenched, 
it  from  her. — Lamb. 

40  Thus  died  the  most  beautiful  and  most  ambitious  princess 
in  the  world,  at  the  age  of  thirty-eight  years,  of  which  she  reigned 
seventeen.  With  her  fell  the  Egyptian  monarchy,  which  had 
subsisted  two  hundred  fourscore  and  fourteen  years,  under  thir 
teen  kings  of  the  family  of  the  Lagidae. — San. 


i 


.  i. 


BOOK  I. — ODE  XXXVIII. 


63 


ODE  XXXVIII.— TO  HIS  SLAVE.* 

Horace  forewarns  his  servant  against  any  extravagance  at  hi. 

entertainment. 

I  tell  thee,  boy,  that  I  detest 
The  grandeur  of  a  Persian  feast, 

Nor  for  me  the  linden’s  rhind 
Shall  the  flowery  chaplet  bind. 

Then  search  not  where  the  curious  rose  5 
Beyond  his  season  loitering  grows, 

But  beneath  the  mantling  vine, 

While  I  quaff  the  flowing  wine  ; 

The  myrtle’s  wreath  shall  crown  our  brows, 
While  you  shall  wait,  and  I  carouse.  10 

*  This  little  piece  has  nothing  remarkable  either  in  the  sub¬ 
ject  or  the  composition.  It  is  rather  a  song  than  an  ode ;  and 
yet  the  genius  and  manner  of  a  great  master  appears  in  the 
smallest  works.  We  find  here  an  expression  easy  and  natural, 
verses  flowing  and  harmonious,  and  a  little  stroke  of  pleasantry, 
which  very  happily  ends  the  song.  Horace  had  probably  invited 
some  of  his  friends  to  supper,  and  his  slave  was  making  an  ex¬ 
traordinary  preparation  for  their  entertainment.  But  our  poet, 
in  his  epicurean  wisdom,  declares  that  pleasures  more  simple 
and  less  extravagant  were  better  suited  to  his  taste. — San. 

9  The  ancients  used  to  crown  their  heads  with  myrtle  in  their 
feasts,  not  only  because  it  was  sacred  to  Venus,  but  because 
they  thought  it  dispelled  the  vapours  of  their  wine. — Lamb. 


\ 


64 


HORACE. 


BOOK  II. 


ODE  I.— TO  ASINIUS  POLLIO.* 

Horace  entreats  Pollio  to  quit  tragedy  for  the  present,  that  he 
may  apply  himself  wholly  to  the  history  of  the  civil  wars. 

f  - 

O,  Pollio  thou  the  great  defence 
Of  sad,  impleaded  innocence  ; 

On  whom,  to  weigh  the  grand  debate, 

In  deep  consult  the  fathers  wait ; 

For  whom  the  triumphs  o’er  Dalmatia  spread  5 
Unfading  honours  round  thy  laurell’d  head, 

Of  warm  commotions,  wrathful  jars, 

The  growing  seeds  of  civil  wars; 

Of  double  fortune’s  cruel  games, 

The  specious  means,  the  private  aims,  10 
And  fatal  friendships  of  the  guilty  great, 

Alas !  how  fatal  to  the  Roman  state ! 

%  * 

Of  mighty  legions  late  subdued, 

And  arms  with  Latian  blood  imbrued, 

*  Pollio,  since  the  year  715,  lived  in  a  private  manner  at 
Rome,  and,  in  his  retirement,  had  written  several  tragedies, 
which,  in  the  judgment  of  Horace  and  Virgil,  had  equalled  the 
stage  of  Rome  to  that  of  Athens.  But  a  work  better  meriting 
his  whole  strength  and  attention  was  a  history  of  the  civil  wars. 
It  was  already  far  advanced  when  the  poet  wrote  this  ode ;  and 
being  apprehensive  lest  that  applause  which  Pollio  received  from 
the  stage  might  interrupt  a  history  so  interesting  to  the  republic, 
he  urges  him  in  the  strongest  manner  to  continue  it ;  yet  tells 
him,  at  the  same  time,  how  delicate  and  dangerous  a  work  he 
had  undertaken. 


BOOK  I\.  -ODE  I. 


65 

15 


Yet  unatoned  (a  labour  vast! 

Doubtful  the  die,  and  dire  the  cast !) 

You  treat  adventurous,  and  incautious  tread 
On  fires,  with  faithless  embers  overspread : 

Retard  a  while  thy  glowing  vein, 

Nor  swell  the  solemn,  tragic  scene  ;  20 

And  when  thy  sage,  historic  cares 
Have  form’d  the  train  of  Rome’s  affairs, 

With  lofty  rapture  reinflamed,  infuse 
Heroic  thoughts,  and  wake  the  buskin’d  muse. 

Hark  !  the  shrill  clarion’s  voice  I  hear ;  25 

Its  threatening  murmurs  pierce  mine  ear; 

And  in  thy  lines,  with  brazen  breath, 

The  trumpet  sounds  the  charge  of  death ; 
While  the  strong  splendours  of  the  sword  affright 
The  flying  steed,  and  mar  the  rider’s  sight !  30 

Panting  with  terror,  I  survey 
The  martial  host  in  dread  array ; 

The  chiefs,  how  valiant  and  how  just ! 

Defiled  with  not  inglorious  dust, 

And  all  the  world  in  chains,  but  Cato,  see  35 

Of  spirit  unsubdued,  and  dying  to  be  free. 

Imperial  Juno,  fraught  with  ire, 

And  all  the  partial  gods  of  Tyre, 

W7ho,  feeble  to  revenge  her  cries, 

Retreated  to  their  native  skies,  40 

Have  in  the  victor’s  bleeding  race  repaid 
Jugurtha’s  ruin,  and  appeased  his  shade. 

35  All  the  praises  which  this  republican  hero  has  received 
from  different  authors  are  not  equal  to  this  single  character,  that 
Caesar  found  it  easier  to  subdue  the  whole  world  than  the  inflex 
ible  spirit  of  Cato. — Bo?id. 


66 


HORACE. 


What  plain,  by  mortals  traversed  o’er, 

Is  not  enrich’d  with  Roman  gore  ? 

Unnumber’d  sepulchres  record  45 

The  deathful  harvest  of  the  sword, 

And  proud  Hesperia,  rushing  into  thrall, 

While  distant  Parthia  heard  the  cumbrous  fall. 

What  gulf,  what  rapid  river  flows 
Unconscious  of  our  wasteful  woes]  50 

What  rolling  sea’s  unfathom’d  tide 
Have  not  the  Paunian  slaughters  died? 

What  coast,  encircled  by  the  briny  flood, 

Boasts  not  the  shameful  tribute  of  our  blood  ? 

But  thou,  my  muse,  to  whom  belong  55 

The  sportive  jest,  and  jocund  song, 

Beyond  thy  province  cease  to  stray, 

Nor  vain  revive  the  plaintive  lay: 

Seek  humbler  measures,  indolently  laid 

With  me  beneath  some  love-sequester’d  shade.  60 

43  The  poet  no  longer  confines  himself  to  the  quarrel  between 
Caesar  and  Pompey,  but  exposes  in  general  the  melancholy  ef¬ 
fects  of  the  whole  civil  war.  The  images  of  these  two  strophes 
are  very  nobly  spirited.  Rivers  and  gulfs  appear  animated  and 
enlivened ;  and  Italy  is  represented  as  a  vast  body,  the  fall  of 
which  is  heard  to  nations  most  distant. — San.  Dac. 


ODE  II.— TO  CRISPUS  SALLUSTIUS.* 

In  this  ode  the  proper  use  of  riches  is  delineated,  together  with 
the  happiness  of  the  man  who  can  subdue  his  passions. 

Gold  hath  no  lustre  of  its  own, 

It  shines  by  temperate  use  alone, 

*  Sallust  was  a  courtier  of  a  philosophical  character.  Con¬ 
tented  with  the  rank  in  which  he  was  born,  like  a  faithful  fol¬ 
lower  of  Epicurus  he  knew  how  to  join  an  open,  unbounded 
luxury  to  a  laborious  care  of  the  public  affairs  ;  and  the  poet,  in 
setting  forth  the  maxims  of  Epicurean  philosophy,  seems  in¬ 
directly  to  applaud  the  person  who  could  thus  bound  his  desires, 
and  enjoy  with  honour  the  considerable  fortune  his  uncle  had 
raised. — San. 


BOOK  II. - ODE  II.  67 

And  when  on  earth  it  hoarded  lies, 

My  Sallust  can  the  mass  despise. 

With  never-failing  wing  shall  fame  5 

To  latest  ages  bear  the  name 
Of  Proculeius,  who  could  prove 
A  father,  in  a  brother’s  love. 

By  virtue’s  precepts  to  control 

The  furious  passions  of  the  soul  10 

Is  over  wider  realms  to  reign, 

Unenvied  monarch,  than  if  Spain 
You  could  to  distant  Lybia  join, 

And  both  the  Cartilages  were  thine. 

The  dropsy,  by  indulgence  nursed,  15 
Pursues  us  with  increasing  thirst, 

Till  art  expels  the  cause,  and  drains 
The  wat’ry  languor  from  our  veins. 

But  virtue  can  the  crowd  unteach 

Their  false  mistaken  forms  of  speech ;  20 

Virtue,  to  crowds  a  foe  profess’d, 

Disdains  to  number  with  the  bless’d 
Phraates,  by  his  slaves  adored, 

And  to  the  Parthian  crown  restored, 

But  gives  the  diadem,  the  throne,  25 

And  laurel  wreath  to  him  alone, 

Who  can  a  treasured  mass  of  gold 
With  firm,  undazzled  eye  behold. 

7  Proculeius  had  two  brothers,  Terentius  and  Licinius.  Te- 
rentius  was  designed  consul  in  the  year  seven  hundred  and 
thirty,  but  died  before  he  could  enter  on  his  office.  Licinius 
unfortunately  engaged  himself  in  a  conspiracy  against  Augustus, 
nor  could  all  the  interest  of  his  brother  Proculeius  and  Maecenas, 
who  had  married  their  sister  Terentia,  preserve  lnm  from  ban¬ 
ishment.  An  old  commentator  relates  a  particular  story,  which 
greatly  enlightens  this  passage.  He  says  that  Proculeius  divided 
his  patrimony  with  his  brothers,  whose  fortunes  were  ruined  in 
the  civil  wars.—  Dac.  San. 

18  The  ancients  frequently  compared  the  covetous  and  am¬ 
bitious  to  persons  afflicted  with  a  dropsy.  Water  only  irritates 
the  thirst  of  the  one,  as  honours  and  riches  provoke  the  insatia¬ 
ble  appetite  of  the  other.  Indeed  great  fortunes  rather  enlarge, 
than  fill  our  desires. — Dac. 

19  Philosophy,  which  is  here  called  virtue,  instructs  us  to 


68 


HORACE. 


ODE  III.—' TO  DELLIUS.* 

The  poet  here  asserts  that  the  happiness  of  life  consists  in 
serenity  of  mind  and  virtuous  enjoyments. 

In  adverse  hours  an  equal  mind  maintain, 

Nor  let  your  spirit  rise  too  high, 

Though  fortune  kindly  change  the  scene — 
Remember,  Dellius,  you  were  born  to  die. 

Whether  your  life  in  sorrows  pass,  5 

And  sadly  joyless  glide  away ; 

Whether,  reclining  on  the  grass, 

You  bless  with  choicer  wine  the  festal  day, 

Where  the  pale  poplar  and  the  pine 

Expel  the  sun’s  intemperate  beam  ;  10 

i 

reconcile  our  passions  with  reason  and  our  pleasure  with  duty  : 
but  the  crowd,  in  a  false  use  of  words,  disguise  the  real  nature 
of  things  by  mistaken  names. 

*  Dellius  was  a  true  picture  of  inconstancy.  After  Caesar’s 
death  he  changed  his  party  four  times  in  the  space  of  twelve 
years.  The  peace  that  succeeded  the  civil  wars  gave  him  an 
opportunity  of  establishing  his  affairs,  which  must  naturally 
have  been  greatly  disordered  by  so  many  changes.  At  this  time 
Horace  wrote  this  ode,  in  which  he  instructs  him  in  the  purest 
maxims  of  Epicurean  philosophy.  The  soul  and  body,  in  the 
opinion  of  Epicurus,  were  two  parts,  composed  of  the  same 
matter,  which  ought  to  unite  in  the  harmony  and  agreement  of 
their  pleasures,  for  the  happiness  of  man.  Horace,  therefore, 
after  advising  Dellius  to  possess  his  soul  in  tranquillity  by  the 
moderation  of  his  passions,  allows  him  to  indulge  his  senses 
with  innocent  diversions.  This  is  all  that  an  Epicurean  can 
reasonably  say,  according  to  his  own  principles. — San. 

1  Virtue  finds  dangers  and  difficulties  in  all  extremes  of  life. 
Prosperity  exalteth  us  too  high ;  adversity  depresseth  us  too 
low.  The  last  effort  therefore  of  reason  is  to  support  us  equally 
between  presumption  and  despair ;  nor  is  any  reflection  more 
capable  of  producing  this  equality  of  soul  than  the  thoughts  of 
death,  which  shall  one  day  put  an  end  to  all  the  changes  of 
fortune.  Such  a  reflection  may  furnish  us  with  motives  of 
patience  in  our  affliction,  and  of  moderation  in  our  pleasures. — 
San. 

9  The  leaf  of  the  poplar  is  white  below,  and  of  a  deep  green 


BOOK  II. — ODE  IV. 


69 


In  hospitable  shades  their  branches  twine, 

And  winds  with  toil,  though  swift,  the  tremulous 
stream. 

Here  pour  your  wines,  your  odours  shed, 

Bring  forth  the  rose’s  short-lived  flower, 
While  fate  yet  spins  thy  mortal  thread,  15 
While  youth  and  fortune  give  th’  indulgent  hour. 

Your  purchased  woods,  your  house  of  state, 
Your  villa,  wash’d  by  Tiber’s  wave, 

You  must,  my  Dellius,  yield  to  fate,  19 

And  to  your  heir  these  high-piled  treasures  leave. 

WThether  you  boast  a  monarch’s  birth, 

While  wealth  unbounded  round  you  flows, 

Or  poor,  and  sprung  from  vulgar  earth, 

No  pity  for  his  victim  Pluto  knows ; 

We  all  must  tread  the  paths  of  fate,  25 

And  ever  shakes  the  mortal  urn, 

Whose  lot  embarks  us,  soon  or  late, 

On  Charon’s  boat,  ah !  never  to  return. 

above.  The  mythologists  give  a  pleasant  reason  for  it.  Her¬ 
cules  having  descended  to  hell,  crowned  with  poplar,  his  sweat 
withered  the  leaves  on  one  side,  and  the  smoke  blackened  the 
other. —  San. 

26  As  it  was  customary  among  the  ancients  to  decide  affairs 
of  the  utmost  importance  by  lot,  they  feigned  that  the  names  of 
all  mankind  were  written  on  billets,  and  thrown  into  an  urn, 
which  was  perpetually  in  motion ;  and  that  they  whose  billets 
were  first  drawn  should  die  first. — Dac. 

to  •  1/  V 

ODE  IV. — TO  ‘XANTHIAS  PHOCEUS.* 

From  the  example  of  many  great  men,  Horace  exhorts  his  friend 
to  feel  no  shame  at  being  in  love  with  his  maid. 

Let  not  my  Phoceus  think  it  shame 
For  a  fair  slave  to  own  his  flame ; 

*  Horace,  with  an  air  of  irony  and  pleasantry,  encourages 
Phoceus  to  indulge  his  passion  for  his  slave. 


70 


HORACE. 


A  slave  could  stern  Achilles  move, 

Ahd  bend  his  haughty  soul  to  love : 

Ajax,  invincible  in  arms,  5 

Was  captivedby  his  captive’s  charms 
Atrides,  mid  his  triumphs  mourn’d, 

And  for  a  ravish’d  virgin  burn’d, 

What  time  the  fierce  barbarian  bands 

Fell  by  Pelides’  conquering  hands,  10 

And  Troy  (her  Hector  swept  away) 

Became  to  Greece  an  easier  prey. 

Who  knows,  when  Phyllis  is  your  bride, 

To  what  fine  folk  you’ll  be  allied  1 

Her  parents  dear,  of  gentle  race,  15 

Shall  not  their  son-in-law  disgrace. 

She  sprung  from  kings,  or  nothing  less, 

And  weeps  the  family’s  distress. 

Think  not,  that  such  a  charming  she 
Can  of  the  wretched  vulgar  be,  20 

A  maid,  so  faithful  and  so  true 
To  love,  to  honour,  and  to  you. 

Her  dear  mamma,  right  virtuous  dame, 

Could  ne’er  have  known  the  blush  of  shame. 

While  thus  with  innocence  I  praise,  25 
Let  me  no  jealous  transports  raise. 

Heart-hold  and  sound  I  laud  her  charms, 

Her  face,  her  taper  legs,  her  arms, 

For  trembling  on  to  forty  years, 

My  age  forbids  all  jealous  fears.  30 

3  Dares  Phrygius  has  left  us  the  following  picture  of  Briseis : 
“  Briseis  was  beautiful,  tall,  faircomplexioned  ;  her  hair  yellow 
and  delicate  :  her  eyebrows  joined  ;  her  eyes  modestly  sweet ; 
and  her  whole  person  exactly  proportioned.  She  was  gentle, 
affable,  modest,  simple  of  manners,  and  pious.”  He  has  also 
given  a  description  of  Cassandra  :  “  Cassandra  was  of  middle 
stature ;  her  mouth  little  and  round ;  her  complexion  ruddy ; 
her  eyes  sparkling.” 


BOOK  II. - ODE  V. 


71 


ODE  V.* 


The  person  to  whom  this  ode  is  inscribed  is  advised  to  recall 
his  affection  from  a  young  girl,  as  yet  unripe  for  his  addresses. 

See,  thy  heifer’s  yet  unbroke 
To  the  labours  of  the  yoke, 

Nor  hath  strength  enough  to  prove 
Such  impetuous  weight  of  love. 

Round  the  fields  her  fancy  strays,  5 

O’er  the  mead  she  sportive  plays, 

Now  beneath  the  sultry  beam 
Cools  her  in  the  passing  stream, 

Now  with  frisking  steerlings  young 
Sports  the  sallow  groves  among.  10 

Do  not  then  commit  a  rape 
On  the  crude  unmellow’d  grape : 

Autumn  soon,  of  various  dies, 

Shall  with  kinder  warmth  arise, 

Bid  the  livid  clusters  glow,  15 

And  a  riper  purple  show. 

Time  to  her  shall  count  each  day, 

Wlych  from  you  it  takes  away, 

Till  with  bold  and  forward  charms, 

She  shall  rush  into  your  arms,  20 

*  Pholoe,  the  flying  fair, 

Shall  not  then  with  her  compare ; 

Nor  the  maid  of  bosom  bright, 

Like  the  moon’s  unspotted  light, 

*  The  twenty-second  ode  of  the  first  book  of  Fuscus  Aristius 
commends  the  beauties  of  Lalage ;  and  if  we  believe  with  Mr. 
Dacier  that  this  is  the  same  Lalage,  it  will  be  a  proof  that  the 
odes  of  Horace,  in  general,  are  not  ranged  in  that  order  in  which 
they  were  written.  She  is  here  represented  as  too  young  for 
marriage,  and  her  lover  is  advised  to  wait  until  he  may  with 
more  decency  pay  his  addresses  to  her. 


72 


HORACE 


O’er  the  waves,  with  silver  rays,  25 

When  its  floating  lustre  plays ; 

Nor  the  Cnidian,  fair  and  young, 

Who,  the  virgin  choir  among, 

Might  deceive,  in  female  guise, 

Strangers,  though  extremely  wise,  30 
With  the  difference  between 
Sexes  hardly  to  be  seen, 

And  his  hair  of  flowing  grace, 

And  his  boyish,  girlish  face. 

ODE  VI.— TO  SEPTIMIUS. 

Horace  invites  Septimius  to  reside  in  the  country  with  him. 

Septimius,  who  hast  vow’d  to  go 
W'ith  Horace  e’en  to  farthest  Spain, 

Or  see  the  fierce  Cantabrian  foe, 

Untaught  to  bear  the  Roman  chain, 

Or  the  barbaric  syrts,  with  mad  recoil  5 

Where  Mauritanian  billows  ceaseless  boil : 

May  Tibur  to  my  latest  hours 
Afford  a  kind  and  calm  retreat ; 

Tibur,  beneath  whose  lofty  towers 

The  Grecians  fix’d  their  blissful  seat ;  10 

There  may  my  labours  end,  my  wanderings  cease, 
There  all  my  toils  of  warfare  rest  in  peace. 


1  Septimius,  according  to  the  old  scholiast,  was  a  Roman 
knight.  He  attended  Tiberius  in  his  eastern  expedition  in  731, 
and  we  may  believe  he  was  well  esteemed  by  Augustus,  since 
he  is  mentioned  with  regard  by  him  in  a  letter  to  Horace. — San 
7  The  poet  says  in  general,  that  whether  he  should  be  obliged 
to  travel  by  sea  or  land,  or  to  bear  arms  again,  he  wishes  that 
Tibur  may  be  the  retreat  of  his  old  age.  He  had  not  only  served 
under  Brutus,  but  attended  Maecenas  to  the  second  congress  at 
Brundusium,  and  through  all  the  war  of  Sicily.  These  violent 
motions  were  by  no  means  agreeable  to  his  humour  and  com¬ 
plexion.  He  was  a  poet,  a  philosopher,  and  of  a  constitution 
too  delicate  to  bear  such  fatigues. — San. 


BOOK  II. — ODE  VI.  73 

But  should  the  partial  Fates  refuse 
That  purer  air  to  let  me  breathe, 

Galesus,  thy  sweet  stream  I’ll  choose,  15 
Where  flocks  of  richest  fleeces  bathe : 
Phalantus  there  his  rural  sceptre  sway’d, 

Uncertain  offspring  of  a  Spartan  maid. 

No  spot  so  joyous  smiles  to  me 

Of  this  wide  globe’s  extended  shores ;  20 

Where  nor  the  labours  of  the  bee 
Yield  to  Hymettus’  golden  stores, 

Nor  the  green  berry  of  Venafran  soil 
Swells  with  a  riper  flood  of  fragrant  oil. 

There  Jove  his  kindest  gifts  bestows,  25 

There  joys  to  crown  the  fertile  plains, 

With  genial  warmth  the  winter  glows, 

And  spring  with  lengthen’d  honours  reigns, 
Nor  Aulon,  friendly  to  the  clustering  vine, 

Envies  the  vintage  of  Falernian  wine.  30 

That  happy  place,  that  sweet  retreat, 

The  charming  hills  that  round  it  rise, 

Your  latest  hours  and  mine  await ; 

And  when  at  length  your  Horace  dies, 

There  the  deep  sigh  thy  poet-friend  shall  mourn,  35 
And  pious  tears  bedew  his  glowing  urn. 


16  The  sheep  of  Tarentum  and  Attica  had  a  wool  so  fine,  that 
they  were  covered  with  skins  to  preserve  it  from  the  inclemency 
of  the  weather.  Pliny  says,  these  covertures  were  brought 
from  Arabia. — Cruq. 

29  It  is  probable  that  Aulon  was  a  little  hill,  near  Tarentum, 
famous  for  its  vines.  It  is  mentioned  by  Martial  as  equally  re¬ 
markable  for  its  wool. 

Famed  for  its  wool,  and  happy  in  its  vines, 

Yours  be  its  fleeces,  and  be  mine  its  wines. 

36  The  poet  here  requires  the  last  office  of  friendship  from 
Septimius,  that  he  would  sprinkle  his  ashes  with  a  tear  ;  and 
the  more  strongly  to  mark  his  friendship,  says  that  he  shall  per 
form  this  last  pious  office  before  his  ashes  shall  be  cold;  while- 
they  shall  be  yet  glowing  from  the  funeral  pile. — Dae . 

Hor.  Vgl.  I.— G 


74 


HORACE, 


ODE  VII.— TO  POMPEIUS  VARUSA 

Our  poet  congratulates  his  friend  on  being  restored  to  him  and 

his  country. 

Varus,  from  early  youth  beloved, 

And  oft  with  me  in  danger  proved, 

Our  daring  host  when  Brutus  led, 

And  in  the  cause  of  freedom  bled, 

To  Rome  and  all  her  guardian  powers  5 

What  happy  chance  the  friend  restores, 

With  whom  I’ve  cheer’d  the  tedious  day, 

And  drunk  its  loitering  hours  away, 

Profuse  of  sweets  while  Syria  shed 
Her  liquid  odours  on  my  head!  10 

With  thee  I  saw  Philippi’s  plain, 

In  fatal  rout,  a  fearful  scene  ! 

And  dropp’d,  alas !  th’  inglorious  shield, 

Where  valour’s  self  was  forced  to  yield, 

*  When  a  peace  was  concluded,  in  the  year  715,  between 
Sextus  Pompeius  and  the  triumvirate,  a  general  amnesty  was 
granted  to  all  who  had  followed  the  party  of  Pompey.  This 
seemed  to  Varus  a  favourable  occasion  of  quitting  the  profession 
of  arms,  and  returning  to  Rome,  when  probably  this  ode  was 
written.  Horace  was  then  twenty  six  years  of  age. — Masson. 

3  Brutus  took  with  him  from  Athens,  eight  or  nine  months 
after  Caesar’s  death,  a  number  of  young  gentlemen,  who  were 
willing  to  follow  his  fortunes  in  the  cause  of  liberty.  Our  poet 
then  began  his  warfare.  He  continued  two  years  under  the 
command  of  that  great  man,  and  we  may  believe  with  some 
merit,  since  he  was  raised  to  the  tribuneship  of  a  legion. 

9  The  use  of  crowns  and  essences  were  first  introduced  into 
the  Roman  entertainments  by  the  ladies. — Dac. 

13  There  is  something  ingenuous  in  the  poet’s  recording  this 
instance  of  his  own  cowardice,  which  possibly  might  never  have 
been  known  to  posterity.  Archilochus,  Alcaeus,  and  Demos¬ 
thenes,  are  examples  of  the  same  ingenuity  of  spirit.  Next  to 
true  courage,  says  a  French  commander,  nothing  is  more  brave 
than  a  confession  of  cowardice. — San. 

14  The  poet,  by  doing  justice  to  the  vanquished,  pays  the 


BOOK  II. - ODE  VII. 


75 

Where  soil’d  in  dust  the  vanquish’d  lay,  15 
And  breath’d  th’  indignant  soul  away. 

But  me,  when  dying  with  my  fear, 

Through  warring  hosts,  inwrappM  in  air, 

Swift  did  the  god  of  wit  convey  ; 

While  thee,  wild  war’s  tempestuous  sea,  20 
In  ebbing  tides,  drove  far  from  shore, 

And  to  new  scenes  of  slaughter  bore. 

To  Jove  thy  votive  offerings  paid, 

Beneath  my  laurel’s  sheltering  shade, 

Fatigued  with  war,  now  rest  reclined,  25 
Nor  spare  the  casks  for  thee  design’d. 

Here  joyous  fill  the  polish’d  bowl, 

With  wine  oblivious  cheer  thy  soul, 

And  from  the  breathing  vials  pour 
Of  essenced  sweets  a  larger  shower.  30 

But  who  the  wreath  unfading  weaves 
Of  parsley,  or  of  myrtle  leaves  ! 

To  whom  shall  beauty’s  queen  assign 
To  reign  the  monarch  of  our  wine  1 
For  Thracian-like  I’ll  drink  to-day,  35 

And  deeply  Bacchus  it  away. 

Our  transports  for  a  friend  restored, 

Should  e’en  to  madness  shake  the  board. 

highest  c<5Ynpliment  to  their  conquerors;  and  in  reality  the 
better  troops  were  on  the  side  of  Brutus  and  Cassius,  although 
fortune  declared  for  Octavius  and  Antony. — Dac. 

34  The  Romans  in  their  entertainments  usually  appointed  a 
person,  whom  they  called  king,  with  a  power  to  regulate  the 
feast  and  govern  the  guests.  His  office  was  decided  by  the  best 
cast  on  the  dice 


) 


76 


HORACE. 


ODE  VIII.— TO  BARINE.* 


Horace  denies  that  the  oath  of  Barine  should  induce  him  to 
believe  her;  for  the  gods  never  punished  the  perjuries  of 
beauties. 

If  e’er  th’  insulted  powers  had  shed 
Their  vengeance  on  thy  perjured  head ;  ( 

If  they  had  mark’d  thy  faithless  truth 
With  one  foul  nail,  or  blacken’d  tooth, 

Again  thy  falsehood  might  deceive,  5 

And  I  the  faithless  vow  believe, 

But  when,  perfidious,  you  engage 
To  meet  high  heaven’s  vindictive  rage, 

You  rise,  with  heighten’d  lustre  fair, 

Of  all  our  youth  the  public  care.  10 

It  thrives  with  thee  to  be  forsworn 
By  thy  dead  mother’s  hallow’d  urn  : 

By  heaven,  and  all  the  stars  that  roll 
In  silent  circuit  round  the  pole ; 

By  heaven,  and  every  nightly  sign,  15 

By  every  deathless  power  divine. 

Yes ;  Venus  laughs,  the  nymphs  with  smiles, 
The  simple  nymphs!  behold  thy  wiles, 

And  with  the  blood  of  some  poor  swain, 

By  thy  perfidious  beauty  slain,  20 

Fierce  Cupid  whets  his  burning  darts, 

For  thee  to  wound  new  lovers’  hearts. 

Thy  train  of  slaves  grows  every  day, 

Infants  are  rising  to  thy  sway, 

*  The  gallantry  of  this  ode  is  of  a  very  particular  kind.  The 
•poet  pays  such  compliments  to  Barine’s  beauty  as  are  almost 
worth  a  woman’s  perjury  to  deserve  ;  especially  when  every 
anew  instance  of  deceiving  gives  a  new  charm. 

4  The  ancients  believed  that  a  lie  was  always  attended  with 
.some  immediate  punishment, —the  loss  of  a  tooth,  a  blister  on  the 
(tongue,  Ac. 


BOOK  II. - ODE  IX.  77 

And  they,  who  swore  to  break  thy  chain,  25 
Yet  haunt  those  impious  doors  again. 

Thee  for  their  boys  the  mothers  fear, 

The  frugal  father  for  his  heir, 

And  weeping  stands  the  virgin  bride, 

In  Hymen’s  fetters  lately  tied,  30 

Lest  you  detain,  with  brighter  charms, 

Her  perjured  husband  from  her  arms. 

ODE  IX.— TO  VALGIUS.* 

Horace  comforts  his  friend  for  the  loss  of  his  son. 

Nor  everlasting  rain  deforms 

The  squalid  fields,  nor  endless  storms, 

Inconstant,  vex  the  Caspian  main, 

Nor  on  Armenia’s  frozen  plain 

The  loit’ring  snow  unmelting  lies,  5 

Nor  loud  when  northern  winds  arise, 

The  labouring  forests  bend  the  head, 

Nor  yet  their  leafy  honours  shed : 

Yet  still  in  elegiac  strains 

My  Valgius  for  his  son  complains,  10 

*  To  know  how  to  comfort  the  afflicted  is  a  talent  which  few 
people  possess,  while  every  one  is  willing  to  make  trial  of  his 
skill.  But  indeed  it  were  better  in  losses  that  are  without 
remedy  to  talk  to  the  heart  than  the  understanding;  for  motives 
of  consolation,  which  are  most  natural  and  obvious,  are  fre¬ 
quently  more  successful  than  the  gravest  maxims  of  morality, 
and  the  most  curious  refinements  of  reason.  Such  is  the 
method  of  Horace  in  comforting  a  father  afflicted  for  the  death 
of  a  son  whom  he  tenderly  loved.  He  does  not  condemn  his 
grief,  but  proposes  to  him  to  stop  the  continuance  of  it,  or  at 
least  to  suspend  its  course.  It  is  not  difficult  to  ascertain  the 
date  of  this  ode.  The  two  last  strophes  show  that  it  was  writ¬ 
ten  in  734,  the  year  after  Augustus’s  Armenian  expedition. — San. 

4  Armenia  is  surrounded  with  mountains  continually  covered 
with  snow.  The  nature  of  the  soil  which  is  impregnated  with 
salt,  contributes  to  the  coldness  of  the  climate,  nor  is  it  un¬ 
common  to  see  frost  and  snow  there  in  the  month  of  June. — 
San. 


78 


HORACE. 


When  Vesper  lifts  his  ev’ning  ray. 

Or  flies  the  rapid  beam  of  day. 

Not  for  his  son  the  Grecian  sage, 

Renown’d  for  thrice  the  mortal  age: 

Not  for  their  youthful  brother  dead  15 

Such  sorrows  Priam’s  daughters  shed. 

At  length  these  weak  complaints  give  o’er, 
Indulge  th’  unmanly  grief  no  more, 

But  let  us  bolder  sweep  the  string, 

And  Caesar’s  new-raised  trophies  sing ;  20 

The  Tigris,  and  its  freezing  flood, 

Euphrates,  with  its  realms,  subdued ; 

Whose  waves  are  taught  with  humbler  pride 
Smoother  to  roll  their  lessening  tide : 

The  Scythians,  who  reluctant  yield,  25 

Nor  pour  their  squadrons  o’er  the  field. 

ODE  X.— TO  LICINIUS  MURENA.* 

The  poet  advises  Licinius  to  moderate  his  desires,  and  to  main¬ 
tain  an  evenness  of  temper. 

Licinius,  would  you  live  with  ease, 

Tempt  not  too  far  the  faithless  seas, 

And  when  you  hear  the  tempest  roar, 

Press  not  too  near  the  unequal  shore. 

*  Licinius  was  a  young  man  of  an  ardent,  restless,  and  am- 
ibitious  spirit.  He  had  ruined  his  fortune  in  the  civil  wars,  when 
his  brother  Proculeius,  with  an  uncommon  generosity,  divided 
his  patrimony  with  him  and  Terentius.  But  a  state  of  depen 
•dance  and  mediocrity  was  by  no  means  suited  to  his  humour, 
and  having  engaged  himself  in  a  conspiracy  against  Augustus, 
he  was  banished,  and  afterward  put  to  death,  notwithstanding 
all  the  interest  of  Proculeius  and  Maecenas,  who  had  married 
his  sister  Terentia.  Horace,  who  knew  his  temper,  lays  down 
some  general  rules  for  his  conduct,  but  without  any  application 
which  could  either  disoblige  or  injure  him.  The  sentiments  of 
this  ode  are  entirely  moral,  but  enlivened  by  different  metaphors 
and  animated  by  different  comparisons  ;  for  if  morality  be  not 
treated  with  art  and  spirit,  it  will  disgust  by  its  dryness,  or  grow 
•tedious  by  its  length. — .San. 


BOOK  II. — ODE  XI.  79 

The  man,  within  the  golden  mean,  5 

Who  can  his  boldest  wish  contain, 

Securely  views  the  ruin’d  cell, 

Where  sordid  want,  and  sorrow  dwell, 

And  in  himself  serenely  great, 

Declines  an  envied  room  of  state.  10 

When  high  in  air  the  pine  ascends, 

To  every  ruder  blast  it  bends. 

The  palace  falls  with  heavier  weight, 

When  tumbling  from  its  airy  height ; 

And  when  from  heaven  the  lightning  flies,  15 
It  blasts  the  hills  that  proudest  rise. 

Whoe’er  enjoys  th’  untroubled  breast, 

With  virtue’s  tranquil  wisdom  bless’d, 

With  hope  the  gloomy  hour  can  cheer, 

And  temper  happiness  with  fear.  20 

If  Jove  the  winter’s  horrors  bring, 

Yet  Jove  restores  the  genial  spring. 

Then  let  us  not  of  fate  complain, 

For  soon  shall  change  the  gloomy  scene. 
Apollo  sometimes  can  inspire  25 

The  silent  muse,  and  wake  the  lyre  : 

The  deathful  bow  not  always  plies, 

Th’  unerring  dart  not  always  flies. 

When  fortune,  various  goddess,  lowers, 

Collect  your  strength,  exert  your  powers  ;  30 
But  when  she  breathes  a  kinder  gale, 

Be  wise,  and  furl  your  swelling  sail. 

ODE  XI.— TO  QUINTIUS  HIRPINUS.* 

Hobace  endeavours  to  divert  the  mind  of  Quintius  to  a  taste  for 
gayety  and  enjoyment. 

Be  not  anxious,  friend,  to  know 
What  our  fierce  Cantabrian  foe, 

*  The  design  of  this  ode  is  well  supported.  The  opening  is 
serious,  but  the  scene  grows  lively  by  degrees,  and  the  two  ac¬ 
tors  at  the  end  are  seated  in  a  rural  arbour  near  a  river’s  side, 
■calling  for  wine  and  music.— San. 


\ 


80  HORACE. 

What  intends  the  Scythian’s  pride, 

Far  from  us  whom  seas  divide. 

Tremble  not  with  vain  desires,  5 

Few  the  things  which  life  requires. 

Youth  with  rapid  swiftness  flies, 

Beauty’s  lustre  quickly  dies, 

Wither’d  age  drives  far  away 
Gentle  sleep,  and  amorous  play.  10 

W7hen  in  vernal  bloom  they  glow,  * 
Flowers  their  gayest  honours  show. 

Nor  the  moon  with  equal  grace 
Always  lifts  her  ruddy  face. 

Thus  while  nature’s  works  decay,  15 
Busy  mortal,  prithee  say, 

Why  do  you  fatigue  the  mind, 

Not  for  endless  schemes  design’d? 

Thus  beneath  this  lofty  shade, 

Thus  in  careless  freedom  laid,  20 

While  Assyrian  essence  sheds 
Liquid  fragrance  on  our  heads, 

While  we  lie  with  roses  crown’d, 

Let  the  cheerful  bowl  go  round  : 

Bacchus  can  our  cares  control,  25 

Cares  that  prey  upon  the  soul. 

Who  shall  from  the  passing  stream 
Quench  our  wine’s  Falernian  flame  ? 

Who  the  vagrant  wanton  bring, 

Mistress  of  the  lyric  string,  30 

With  her  flowing  tresses  tied, 

Loosely,  like  a  Spartan  bride  1 

11  Nothing  is  less  durable  than  flowers  in  spring;  nothing 
more  changeable  than  the  moon  ;  yet  these  are  the  best  images 
of  human  life.  Why  then  should  creatures,  by  nature  formed 
to  mortality,  fatigue  themselves  with  endless  and  uncertain 
projects  ?  From  these  grand  principles  a  cheerful  enjoyment  of 
the  present  hour  is  a  conclusion  not  unworthy  of  an  Epicurean 
moralist. —  Torr.  an. 


r 


81 


BOOK  II. - ODE  XII. 

ODE  XII. — TO  MAECENAS. 

Horace  acknowledges  that  he  was  so  given  up  to  Licymnia 
that  he  was  unable  to  rise  to  more  serious  subjects. 

Numantia’s  wars,  for  years  maintain’d, 

Or  Hannibal’s  vindictive  ire, 

Or  seas  with  Punic  gore  distain’d, 

Suit  not  the  softness  of  my  feeble  lyre ; 

Nor  savage  centaurs,  mad  with  wine,  5 

Nor  earth’s  gigantic  rebel  brood, 

Who  shook  old  Saturn’s  seat  divine, 

Till  by  the  arm  of  Hercules  subdued. 

You  in  historic  prose  shall  tell 
The  mighty  power  of  Caesar’s  war ;  10 

How  kings  beneath  his  battle  fell, 

Or  dragg’d  indignant  his  triumphal  car. 

Licymnia’s  dulcet  voice,  her  eye, 
Bright-darting  its  resplendent  ray, 

Her  breast,  where  love  and  friendship  lie,  15 
The  muse  commands  me  sing  in  softer  lay ; 

In  raillery  the  sportive  jest, 

Graceful  her  mien  in  dancing  charms, 

When  playful  at  Diana’s  feast 
To  the  bright  virgin  choir  she  winds  her  arms.  20 

Say,  shall  the  wealth  by  kings  possess’d, 

Or  the  rich  diadems  they  wear, 

Or  all  the  treasures  of  the  East, 

Purchase  one  lock  of  my  Licymnia’s  hair! 

4  The  poet  does  not  mean,  as  some  commentators  understand 
■him,  that  grave  or  tragic  subjects  do  not  agree  with  lyric  po¬ 
etry.  This  assertion  would  be  absolutely  false,  and  the  odes  of 
Pindar  and  Horace  are  a  proof  of  the  contrary.  He  only  says 
that  his  own  lyre  has  no  other  sounds  but  what  are  proper  for 
love,  and  refuses  all  subjects  of  grandeur  and  sublimity. 


82 


HORACE. 


While  now  her  bending  neck  she  plies  25 
Backward  to  meet  the  burning  kiss, 

Then  with  an  easy  cruelty  denies, 

Yet  wishes  you  would  snatch,  not  ask  the  bliss. 


ODE  XIII.* 

Execrations  on  a  tree,  by  the  fall  of  which  our  poet  had  been 

nearly  crushed. 

Whoever  raised  and  planted  thee, 

Unlucky  and  pernicious  tree, 

In  hour  accursed  with  impious  hand, 

(Thou  bane  and  scandal  of  my  land,) 

Well  may  I  think  the  parricide  5 

In  blood  his  guilty  soud  had  died, 

Or  plunged  his  dagger  in  the  breast, 

At  midnight,  of  his  sleeping  guest, 

Or  temper’d  every  baleful  juice, 

Which  poisonous  Colchian  glebes  produce, 
Or  if  a  blacker  crime  be  known,  1 1 

That  crime  the  wretch  had  made  his  own, 
Who  on  my  harmless  grounds  and  me 
Bestow’d  thee,  luckless  falling  tree. 

While  dangers  hourly  round  us  wait,  15 
No  caution  can  prevent  our  fate. 

All  other  deaths  the  sailor  dares, 

Who  yet  the  raging  ocean  fears ; 

The  Parthian  views  with  deep  dismay 
The  Roman  chains,  and  firm  array  ;  20 

The  Roman  dreads  the  Parthian’s  speed, 

His  flying  war,  and  backward  reed  ; 

*  It  may  be  worth  observing  that  there  is  no  subject,  however 
trivial  or  inconsiderable,  which  poetry  cannot  raise  into  gran¬ 
deur  and  dignity.  The  fall  of  a  tree  might  have  alarmed  a 
writer  of  prose,  who  would  coldly  have  described  his  danger  ; 
but  the  terrors  of  a  poetical  imagination  have  transported 
Horace  to  the  very  regions  of  death,  where  he  sings  the  power 
of  music  and  poetry. 


BOOK  II. - ODE  XIV. 


83 


While  death,  unheeded,  sweeps  away 
The  world,  his  everlasting  prey. 

How  near  was  I  those  dreary  plains,  25 
Where  Pluto’s  auburn  consort  reigns ; 
Where  awful  sits  the  judge  of  hell ; 

Where  pious  spirits  blissful  dwell ; 

Where  Sappho’s  sweet  complaints  reprove 
The  rivals  of  her  fame  and  love,  30 

Alcaeus  bolder  sweeps  the  strings, 

And  seas,  and  war,  and  exile  sings. 

Thus  while  they  strike  the  various  lyre, 
The  ghosts  the  sacred  sounds  admire  ; 

But  when  Alcaeus  tunes  the  strain  35 

To  deeds  of  war,  and  tyrants  slain, 

In  thicker  crowds  the  shadowy  throng 
Drink  deeper  down  the  martial  song. 

W'hat  wonder  1  when  with  bending  ears 
The  dog  of  hell  astonish’d  hears,  40 

And  in  the  furies’  hair  entwined, 

The  snakes  with  cheerful  horror  wind, 

While  charm’d  by  the  melodious  strains, 

The  tortured  ghosts  forget  their  pains, 

Orion  quits  his  bold  delight  45 

To  chase  the  lion’s  rage,  or  lynx’s  flight. 


31  Alcaeus  was  contemporary,  countryman,  and  friend  of 
N  Sappho.  His  style  was  close,  magnificent,  and  chaste.  He  is 
■frequently  like  to  Homer,  but  he  descends  into  sports  and  love, 
although  naturally  formed  to  more  exalted  subjects. 

45  Orion,  who  had  loved  hunting  when  he  lived,  is  here  de¬ 
scribed  pursuing  the  same  sport  when  he  died.  The  ancients  be¬ 
lieved  that  the  ghosts  of  the  departed  retained  the  same  pas¬ 
sions  as  those  with  which  they  were  animated  on  earth. 


ODE  XIV.— TO  POSTUMUS. 

Reflections  on  the  shortness  of  life  and  certainty  of  death. 

How  swiftly  glide  our  flying  years! 

Alas !  nor  piety,  nor  tears 


84 


HORACE. 


Can  stop  the  fleeting  day ; 
Deep-furrow’d  wrinkles,  posting  age, 

And  death’s  unconquerable  rage,  5 

Are  strangers  to  delay. 

Though  every  day  a  bull  should  bleed 
To  Pluto,  bootless  were  the  deed, 

The  monarch  tearless  reigns, 

Where  vulture-tortured  Tityus  lies,  10 

And  triple  Geryon’s  monstrous  size 
The  gloomy  wave  detains. 

Whoever  tastes  of  earthly  food 
Is  doomed  to  pass  the  joyless  flood. 

And  hear  the  Stygian  roar;  15 

The  scepter’d  king,  who  rules  the  earth, 

The  labouring  hind,  of  humbler  birth, 

Must  reach  the  distant  shore. 

%  » 

The  broken  surge  of  Adria’s  main. 

Hoarse  sounding  we  avoid  in  vain,  20 

And  Mars  in  blood-stain’d  arms  ; 

The  southern  blast  in  vain  we  fear. 

And  autumn’s  life-annoying  air 
WTith  idle  fears  alarms  ; 

For  all  must  see  Cocytus  flow,  25 

Whose  gloomy  water  sadly  slow 
Strays  through  the  dreary  soil. 

The  guilty  maids,  an  ill-famed  train  1 
And,  Sisyphus,  thy  labours  vain, 

Condemn’d  to  endless  toil.  30 

Your  pleasing  consort  must  be  left. 

And  you  of  villas,  lands  bereft. 

Must  to  the  shades  descend ; 

The  cypress  only,  hated  tree ! 

Of  all  thy  much-loved  groves,  shall  thee,  35 
Its  short-lived  lord  attend- 


BOOK  II. - ODE  XV. 


85 


Then  shall  your  worthier  heir  discharge, 

And  set  th’  imprison’d  casks  at  large, 

And  die  the  floor  with  wine, 

So  rich  and  precious,  not  the  feasts  40 

Of  holy  pontiffs  cheer  their  guests 
With  liquor  more  divine. 

ODE  XV.* 

In  this  ode  Horace  opposes  the  ancient  frugality  to  the  modern 

luxury. 

In  royal  pride  our  buildings  rise ; 

The  useless  plough  neglected  lies  ; 

Ponds,  broad  as  lakes,  our  fields  o’erspread ; 

Th’  unmarried  plane  high  waves  the  head 
Above  the  elm  ;  while  all  around,  5 

Wafting  their  fragrance  o’er  the  ground, 

Where  once  the  olive  pour’d  its  shade, 

And  its  rich  master’s  cares  repaid  ; 

The  violet  and  myrtle  greets 

The  senses  with  a  waste  of  sweets ;  10 

While  vainly  would  Apollo’s  ray 

Through  our  thick  laurels  pour  the  day. 

Not  such  were  Cato’s  sage  decrees, 

Nor  Romulus  by  arts  like  these 

*  The  poet  in  this  ode  opposes  the  magnificence  and  expense 
of  the  present  Romans,  in  their  buildings,  plantations,  and  gar¬ 
dens,  to  the  simplicity  and  frugality  of  their  ancestors,  by  whom 
the  public  edifices  and  temples  of  the  gods  were  thought  the 
noblest  monuments  of  true  grandeur,  as  well  as  of  piety. 

The  wealth  brought  into  Rome  by  ravaging  and  plundering 
the  world  was  employed,  with  a  wantonness  almost  incredible, 
in  the  last  excesses  of  extravagance  and  luxury.  These  ex¬ 
cesses  vitiated  the  minds,  corrupted  the  understanding,  and 
broke  the  resolution  of  a  people,  not  less  glorious  for  their  spirit 
of  liberty,  than  for  their  conquest  of  the  world.  Thus,  at 
length,  they  were  debased  to  a  violence  of  slavery  unknown  to 
the  nations  whom  they  had  conquered,  and  infamous  to  all  pos¬ 
terity. 

13  Valerius  Maximus  has  given  us  this  glorious  character  of 

Hor.  Vol.  I. — H 


86 


HORACE. 


In  wisdom  form’d  th’  imperial  sway,  15 

And  bid  th’  unwilling  world  obey. 

Though  small  each  personal  estate, 

The  public  revenues  were  great ; 

Arcades  were  then  by  law  confined, 

Nor  open’d  to  the  northern  wind  :  20 

Or  turf,  or  brick,  where  fortune  pleased, 

The  private  dwelling  humbly  raised ; 

While  awful  to  the  powers  divine 
Rose  high  to  heaven  the  sacred  shrine, 

And  all  the  public  structures  shone,  25 

Enrich’d  with  ornamental  stone. 


ODE  XVI.— TO  POMPEIUS  GROSPHUS.* 


The  poet  describes  happiness  as  consisting  in  bridling  our 

affections. 

Caught  in  the  wild  iEgean  seas, 

The  sailor  bends  to  heaven  for  ease ; 

While  clouds  the  moon’s  fair  lustre  hide, 

And  not  a  star  his  course  to  guide. 

Furious  in  war  the  Thracian  prays,  5 

The  quiver’d  Mede,  for  ease,  for  ease, 

the  ancient  Romans,  that  every  one  was  earnest  to  increase  the 
wealth  of  his  country,  not  his  own  private  fortune,  and  chose 
rather  to  be  poor  in  a  rich  state,  than  to  be  rich  when  the  com¬ 
monwealth  was  popr.  “  They  aimed,”  says  Cicero,  “at  the 
praises  of  frugality  in  their  domestic  affairs,  and  of  dignity  in 
all  that  concerned  the  public.” 

*  When  Horace  draws  the  morals  of  Epicurus  at  their  source, 
it  must  be  confessed  that  human  wisdom  never  produced  any 
system  more  reasonable.  The  pleasure  of  that  philosopher,  a 
pleasure  abused  by  libertinism,  and  condemned  by  ignorance, 
consisted  in  a  tranquillity  of  mind,  resulting  from  the  practice 
of  virtue.  From  this  principle  are  derived  all  those  beautifhl 
maxims  which  our  poet  has  dispersed  through  his  whole  works, 
and  which  appear  particularly  in  this  ode,  where  he  gives  such 
counsel  to  his  friend  as  seems  to  be  dictated  by  reason  itself. 


BOOK  II. - ODE  XVI. 

A  blessing  never  to  be  sold 
For  gems,  for  purple,  or  for  gold. 

Nor  can  the  consul’s  power  control 
The  sickly  tumults  of  the  soul ; 

Or  bid  the  cares  to  stand  aloof 
That  hover  round  the  vaulted  roof. 

Happy  the  man,  whose  frugal  board 
His  father’s  plenty  can  afford  ; 

His  gentle  sleep  nor  anxious  fear 
Shall  drive  away,  nor  sordid  care. 

Why  do  we  aim  with  eager  strife 
At  things  beyond  the  mark  of  life  1 
To  climates  warm’d  by  other  suns 
In  vain  the  wretched  exile  runs ; 

Flies  from  his  country’s  native  skies, 
But  never  from  himself  he  flies; 
Corroding  cares  incessant  charge 
His  flight,  and  climb  his  armed  barge  ; 
Or  though  he  mount  the  rapid  steed, 
Care  follows  with  unerring  speed, 

Far  fleeter  than  the  timorous  hind ; 

Far  fleeter  than  the  driving  wind. 

The  spirit,  that,  serenely  gay, 

Careless  enjoys  the  present  day, 

Can  with  an  easy,  cheerful  smile, 

The  bitterness  of  life  beguile  ; 

Nor  fears  the  approaching  hour  of  fate, 
Nor  hopes  for  human  bliss  complete. 

Achilles  perish’d  in  his  prime  ; 
Tithon  was  worn  away  by  time  ; 

And  fate,  with  lavish  hand,  to  me 
May  grant  what  it  denies  to  thee. 

A  hundred  bleating  flocks  are  thine  ; 
Around  thee  graze  thy  lowing  kine  ; 
Neighing,  thy  mares  invite  the  reins ; 
Thy  robes  the  twice-died  purple  stains 
On  me,  not  unindulgent  fate 
.  Bestow’d  a  rural,  calm  retreat, 


88 


HORACE. 


Where  I  may  tune  the  Roman  lyre,  45 

And  warm  the  song  with  Grecian  fire ; 

Then  scorn,  in  conscious  virtue  proud, 

The  worthless  malice  of  the  crowd. 

ODE  XVII.— TO  MAECENAS.* 

Horace  comforts  Maecenas  labouring  under  a  fever,  and  denies 
that  he  can  possibly  survive  him. 

Why  will  Maecenas  thus  complain  1 
Why  kill  me  with  the  tender  strain  1 
Nor  can  the  gods,  nor  I  consent 
That  you,  my  life’s  great  ornament, 

Should  sink  untimely  to  the  tomb,  5 

While  I  survive  the  fatal  doom. 

Should  you,  alas !  be  snatch’d  away, 
Wherefore,  ah !  wherefore  should  I  stay, 

My  value  lost,  no  longer  whole, 

And  but  possessing  half  my  soul  1  10 

One  day  (believe  the  sacred  oath) 

Shall  lead  the  funeral  pomp  of  both : 

With  thee  to  Pluto’s  dark  abode  ; 

With  thee  I’ll  tread  the  dreary  road. 

Nor  fell  Chimaera’s  breath  of  fire,  15 

Nor  hundred-handed  Gyas  dire, 

Shall  ever  tear  my  friend  from  me ; 

So  justice  and  the  fates  decree. 

*  Maecenas,  as  we  are  informed  by  Pliny,  laboured  from  his 
infancy  under  a  perpetual  fever,  which  must  necessarily  have 
changed  the  natural  gayety  of  his  temper,  especially  towards 
the  latter  end  of  his  life.  It  is  probable  that  he  frequently,  and 
with  some  impatience,  lamented  to  his  favourite  poet  his  ap¬ 
proaching  death.  Horace,  justly  sensible  to  his  complainings, 
in  this  ode  entreats  him  to  talk  no  more  in  such  affecting  lan¬ 
guage  ;  he  tells  him,  that  he  is  determined  not  to  survive  him, 
and  proves  it  to  be  impossible  by  the  conformity  of  their  des¬ 
tinies,  particularly  those  accidents  by  which  their  lives  had  been 
endangered ;  from  whence  he  proposes  that  they  should  per¬ 
form  their  sacrifices  in  gratitude  to  the  gods,  who  had  preserved 
them. — San. 


BOOK  II. - ODE  XVIII. 


89 


Whether  fair  Libra’s  kinder  sign, 

Or  Scorpius  with  an  eye  malign  20 

Beheld  my  birth,  (whose  gloomy  power, 

Rules  dreadful  o’er  the  natal  hour,) 

Or  Capricorn,  with  angry  rays, 

Who  shines  the  tyrant  of  the  seas ; 

With  equal  beams  our  stars  unite,  25 

And  strangely  shed  their  mingled  light. 

Thee,  Jove’s  bright  influence  snatch’d  away 
From  baleful  Saturn’s  impious  ray, 

And  stopp’d  the  rapid  wings  of  fate 

When  the  full  theatre,  elate,  30 

With  joyful  transports  hail’d  thy  name, 

And  thrice  uprais’d  the  loud  acclaim. 

A  tree,  when  falling  on  my  head. 

Had  surely  crush’d  me  to  the  dead; 

But  Pan,  the  poet’s  guardian,  broke  35 

With  saving  hand  the  destined  stroke. 

For  thee,  let  the  rich  victim’s  blood 
Pour  forth  to  Jove  its  purple  flood ; 

For  thee,  the  votive  temple  rise  ; 

For  me,  an  humble  lambkin  dies.  40 

ODE  XVIII. 

Horace  inveighs  against  Roman  luxury  and  covetousness. 

|  S 

No  walls,  with  ivory  inlaid, 

Adorn  my  house ;  no  colonnade 
Proudly  supports  my  citron  beams, 

Nor  rich  with  gold  my  ceiling  flames  ; 

Nor  have  I,  like  an  heir  unknown,  5 

Seized  upon  Attalus’s  throne  ; 

Nor  dames,  to  happier  fortunes  bred, 

Draw  down  for  me  the  purple  thread 
Yet  with  a  firm  and  honest  heart, 

Unknowing  or  of  fraud  or  art,  10 

A  liberal  vein  of  genius  bless’d, 

I’m  by  the  rich  and  great  caress’d. 

H  2 


90 


HORACE. 


My  patron’s  gift,  my  Sabine  field, 

Shall  all  its  rural  plenty  yield  ; 

And  happy  in  that  rural  store,  15 

Of  Heaven  and  him  I  ask  no  more. 

Day  presses  on  the  heels  of  day, 

And  moons  increase  to  their  decay ; 

But  you,  with  thoughtless  pride  elate, 
Unconscious  of  impending  fate,  20 

Command  the  pillar’d  dome  to  rise, 

When,  lo !  thy  tomb  forgotten  lies ; 

And,  though  the  waves  indignant  roa 
Forward  you  urge  the  Baian  shore  ; 

While  earth’s  too  narrow  bounds  in  vain  25 
Your  guilty  progress  would  restrain. 

The  sacred  landmark  strives  in  vain 
Your  impious  avarice  to  restrain  : 

You  break  into  your  neighbour’s  grounds, 

And  overleap  your  client’s  bounds.  30 

Driven  out  by  thee,  to  new  abodes 
They  carry  their  paternal  gods : 

The  wife  her  husband’s  sorrow  shares, 

And  on  her  breast  her  squalid  infants  bears. 

Yet  destined  by  unerring  fate,  35 

Shall  death  this  wealthy  lord  awrait : 

Then  whither  tend  thy  wide  domains  ? 

For  Barth  impartial  entertains 
Her  various  sons,  and  in  her  breast 
Princes  and  beggars  equal  rest.  40 

Nor  gold  could  bribe,  nor  art  deceive 
The  gloomy  life-guard  of  the  grave, 

17  T»i«  poet  begins  here,  although  the  transition  and  connec¬ 
tion  be  not  very  strongly  rntirked,  directly  to  attack  the  man¬ 
ners  of  Inn  age,  and  unites  in  the  same  subject  both  their  ava¬ 
rice  and  prodigality  ;  for  these  two  passions,  however  opposite 
they  may  maun,  are,  frequently  found  in  the  same  character. — 
Natuulon. 

3ft  The  poet  opposes  to  the  rapine  of  this  invader  the  total 
ruin  which  death  shall  cause,  in  leaving  him  no  more  than  he 
leaves  to  them  he  has  plundered. 

41  1  he  poet,  by  allusion  to  some  lahlo  of  Prometheus  no' 


BOOK  II. - ODE  XIX. 


91 


Backward  to  tread  the  shadowy  way, 

And  waft  Prometheus  into  day. 

Yet  he,  who  Tantalus  detains,  45 

With  all  his  haughty  race  in  chains, 

Invoked  or  not,  the  wretch  receives, 

And  from  the  toils  of  life  relieves. 


ODE  XIX.— TO  BACCHUS.* 

The  poet  celebrates  the  praises  of  Bacchus,  being  filled  and 
animated  by  his  divinity. 

I  saw  (let  future  times  believe) 

The  god  of  wine  his  lectures  give ; 

Mid  rocks  far  distant  was  the  scene : 

With  ears  erect  the  satyrs  stood, 

And  every  goddess  of  the  wood  5 

Listen’d  th’  instructive  solemn  strain. 

The  recent  terror  heaves  my  breast ; 

Yet  with  th’  inspiring  power  possess’d, 
Tumultuous  joys  my  soul  have  warm’d  : 
Dreadful,  who  shak’st  the  ivy  spear,  10 

Thy  votary  thus  prostrate  hear, 

And  be  thy  rage,  thy  rage  disarm’d. 

longer  known,  insinuates  to  this  avaricious  lord  how  useless  the 
wealth,  which  he  had  purchased  by  violence  and  rapine,  shall 
prove  after  death ;  for  death  to  the  poor  is  the  beginning  of  their 
repose;  to  the  rich  an  end  of  their  pleasures. — San. 

*  This  ode  probably  was  written  for  some  festival  of  Bacchus, 
and  the  poet  with  a  kind  of  bacchanalian  enthusiasm  has  im¬ 
pressed  the  marks  of  his  divinity  on  all  parts  of  this  vast  uni¬ 
verse.  Earth,  sea,  hell,  and  heaven  have  felt  the  effects  of  his 
power. — San. 

1  This  beginning  is  truly  sublime.  It  is  a  picture  capable  of 
alarming  and  filling  the  imagination  by  a  natural  mixture  of  the 
rural  and  majestic.  The  scene  is  happily  chosen,  for  the  mys¬ 
teries  of  gods  ought  to  be  performed  in  places  distant  from  the 
commerce  of  profane  mortals. — San. 

12  The  poet  imagines  that  he  beholds  Bacchus  raising  his  ivy 


92 


HORACE. 


Give  me  to  sing,  by  thee  inspired, 

Thy  priestesses  to  madness  fired  : 

Fountains  of  wine  shall  pour  along,  15 

And,  melting  from  the  hollow  tree, 

The  golden  treasures  of  the  bee, 

And  streams  of  milk  shall  fill  the  song. 

Fair  Ariadne’s  crown  shall  rise, 

And  add  new  glories  to  the  skies ;  20 

While  I  to  listening  nations  ’tell 
How  impious  Pentheus’  palace  burn’d, 

With  hideous  ruin  overturn’d, 

And  how  the  mad  Lycurgus  fell. 

Indus  and  Ganges  own  thy  sway,  25 

Barbaric  seas  thy  power  obey, 

And  o’er  the  pathless  mountain’s  height, 

(Her  head  with  horrid  snakes  enroll’d, 

Which  harmless  writhe  their  angry  fold,) 

Thy  raptured  priestess  speeds  her  flight.  30 

When  rising  fierce  in  impious  arms, 

The  giant  race  with  dire  alarms 
Assail’d  the  sacred  realms  of  light, 

With  lion  wrath,  and  dreadful  paw, 

With  blood-besmear’d  and  foaming  jaw,  35 
You  put  their  horrid  chief  to  flight. 

For  dancing  form’d,  for  love  and  wit, 

You  seem’d  for  war’s  rude  toils  unfit, 

And  polish’d  to  each  softer  grace  : 

But  dreadful  when  in  arms  you  shone,  40 

You  made  the  fatal  art  your  own, 

In  war  excelling  as  in  peace. 

spear  to  strike  him  for  daring  to  reveal  his  awful  mysteries  with¬ 
out  his  permission.  He  asks  pardon  for  his  temerity,  and  calms 
the  anger  of  the  god  by  the  most  artful  praises.  The  ode  is  di¬ 
vided  into  three  parts  :  the  first,  includes  the  benefits  which  the 
god  has  bestowed  on  humankind ;  the  second  shows  some  in¬ 
stances  of  his  vengeance  ;  and  the  third  describes  his  exploits. 


BOOK  II. - ODE  XX. 


93 


With  golden  horn  supremely  bright 
You  darted  round  the  bending  light, 

Far  beaming  through  the  gloom  of  hell :  45 

When  Cerberus,  with  fear  amazed, 

Forgot  his  rage,  and  fawning  gazed, 

And  at  thy  feet  adoring  fell. 

% 

ODE  XX.— TO  MAECENAS. 

Horace  promises  himself  eternal  fame  from  his  verses. 

With  strong  unwonted  wing,  I  rise, 
Atwo-form’d  poet,  through  the  skies. 

Far  above  envy  will  I  soar, 

And  tread  this  worthless  earth  no  more  : 

For  lenow,  ye  rivals  of  my  fame,  5 

Though  lowly  born,  a  vulgar  name 
I  will  not  condescend  to  die, 

Nor  in  the  Stygian  waters  lie. 

A  rougher  skin  now  clothes  my  thighs, 

Into  a  swan’s  fair  form  1  rise,  10 

And  feel  the  feather’d  plumage  shed 
Its  down,  and  o’er  my  shoulders  spread. 

Swift  as  with  Daedalean  wing, 

Harmonious  bird,  I’ll  soaring  sing, 

And  in  my  flight  the  foamy  shores  15 

Where  Bosphorus  tremendous  roars, 

The  regions  bound  by  northern  cold, 

And  Libya’s  burning  sands  behold. 

Then  to  the  learned  sons  of  Spain  ; 

To  him,  who  ploughs  the  Scythian  main  ;  20 

1  A  poet  without  wings,  is  a  poet  without  genius.  This  un¬ 
usual  flight  of  Horace  alludes  to  his  imitation  of  the  Grecian 
lyric  writers,  and  the  next  line  represents  him  in  the  beginning 
of  this  metamorphosis,  half  man  and  half  bird. — San 

19  In  the  time  of  Augustus  learning  and  the  sciences  flour¬ 
ished  in  Spain,  whither  they  were  carried  from  Asia,  and  where 
the  Roman  colonies  contributed  greatly  to  their  encourage¬ 
ment. — Dac. 


94 


HORACE 


To  him,  who  with  dissembled  fears, 
Conscious,  the  Roman  arms  reveres; 

To  him,  who  drinks  the  rapid  Rhone, 
Shall  Horace,  deathless  bard  !  be  known. 

My  friends,  the  funeral  sorrow  spare, 
The  plaintive  song,  and  tender  tear; 

Nor  let  the  song  of  grief  profane 
With  loud  laments  the  solemn  scene ; 
Nor  o’er  your  poet’s  empty  urn 
With  useless,  idle  sorrows  mourn. 


25 


30 


BOOK  III. 


ODE  I  * 

Horace  asserts  that  happiness  consists  neither  in  honours  nor 

riches. 

Monarchs  on  earth  their  power  extend ; 

Monarchs  to  Jove  submissive  bend, 

And  own  the  sovereign  god  ; 

With  glorious  triumph  who  subdued 

The  Titan  race,  gigantic  brood  !  5 

And  shakes  whole  nature  with  his  nod. 

When  rival  candidates  contend, 

And  to  the  Field  of  Mars  descend 
To  urge  th’  ambitious  claim, 

*  Horace  in  this  and  the  next  book  shows  forth  all  his  poet¬ 
ical  abilities.  Poetry  itself  appears  in  its  native  original  char¬ 
acter,  employed  in  celebrating  the  power  of  the  gods,  and  the 
praises  of  men;  in  supporting  the  sacred  truths  of  religion, 
and  encouraging  the  practice  of  moral  virtue.  In  this  ode  the 
)oet  asserts  the  sovereignty  of  Jupiter,  and  descending  from 
lim,  on  whom  they  all  depend,  through  the  various  degrees  of 
ife,  he  teaches  us  that  true  happiness  can  only  be  found  in  a 
contented  and  frugal  enjoyment  of  the  blessings  we  possess. 

7  Horace  here  descends  to  the  conditions  of  life  which  are 
most  exalted  next  to  that  of  kings.  Among  the  Romans  there 
was  nothing  above  their  first  magistracies  ;  and  the  poet  makes 
a  short  and  just  enumeration  of  the  qualities  which  ought  to  be 
considered  in  the  candidates.  Virtue  alone  should  decide  in  all 
elections ;  but  riches,  popularity,  and  birth,  in  all  ages  and 
countries,  too  frequently  corrupt  the  suffrages. — San.  Dac. 

8  The  Field  of  Mars,  where  the  popular  assemblies  were  held 
for  elections,  was  in  the  lowest  ground  of  Rome. 


96 


HORACE. 


*  > 


Some  of  illustrious  birth  are  proud,  10 

Some  of  their  clients’  vassal  crowd, 

And  some  of  virtue’s  fame. 

Others  the  rural  labour  love, 

And  joy  to  plant  the  spreading  grove, 

The  furrow’d  glebe  to  turn;  15 

Yet  with  impartial  hand  shall  fate 
Both  of  the  lowly  and  the  great 
Shake  the  capacious  urn. 

Behold  the  wretch,  with  conscious  dread, 

In  pointed  vengeance  o’er  his  head  20 

Who  views  th’  impending  sword ; 

Nor  dainties  force  his  pall’d  desire, 

Nor  chant  of  birds,  nor  vocal  lyre 
To  him  can  sleep  afford ; 

Heart-soothing  sleep,  which  not  disdains  25 
The  rural  cot,  and  humble  swains, 

And  shady  river  fair ; 

Or  Tempe’s  ever-blooming  spring, 

Where  zephyrs  wave  the  balmy  wing, 

And  fan  the  buxom  air.  30 

Who  nature’s  frugal  dictates  hears, 

He  nor  the  raging  ocean  fears, 

Nor  stars  of  power  malign, 

Whether  in  gloomy  storms  they  rise, 

Or  swift  descending  through  the  skies,  35 
With  angry  lustre  shine  ; 

Whether  his  vines  be  smit  with  hail ; 

Whether  his  promised  harvests  fail, 

19  The  commentators  understand  these  words  of  Damocles, 
yet,  as  he  is  charged  with  no  other  crime  than  that  of  praising 
the  happiness  of  Dionysius,  they  seem  more  justly  to  be  ap¬ 
plied  to  the  tyrant  himself,  whom  Horace  considers  in  the  same 
danger  to  which  Damocles  was  exposed,  and  under  whose  per¬ 
son  he  describes  the  dangerous  and  wretched  situation  of  all 
tyrants,  amid  their  pomp  and  appearances  of  happiness.— Dac. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  I. 


97 


Perfidious  to  his  toil ; 

Whether  his  drooping-  trees  complain  40 

Of  angry  winter’s  chilling  rain, 

Or  stars  that  burn  the  soil. 

Not  such  the  haughty  lord,  who  lays 
His  deep  foundations  in  the  seas, 

And  scorns  earth’s  narrow  bound  :  45 

The  fish,  affrighted,  feel  their  waves 
Contracted  by  his  numerous  slaves, 

Ev’n  in  the  vast  profound. 

High  though  his  structures  rise  in  air, 

Pale  menaces,  and  black  despair,  50 

This  haughty  lord  shall  find 
O’ertake  his  armed  galley’s  speed, 

And  when  he  mounts  the  flying  steed 
Sits  gloomy  care  behind. 

If  purple,  which  the  morn  outshines,  55 

Or  marble  from  the  Phrygian  mines, 

Though  labour’d  high  with  art ; 

If  essence,  breathing  sweets  divine, 

Or  flowing  bowls  of  generous  wine, 

Ill  sooth  an  anxious  heart,  60 

On  columns  raised  in  modern  style, 

Why  should  I  plan  the  lofty  pile 
To  rise  with  envied  state  1 
Why,  for  a  vain  superfluous  store, 

Which  would  encumber  me  the  more,  65 

Resign  my  Sabine  seat  ? 


i 


^  i 


Hor.  Vol.  I. — I 


98 


HORACE. 


ODE  II.— TO  HIS  FRIENDS.* 


The  poet  here  extols  military  bravery,  probity,  and  fidelity  in 

keeping  a  secret. 

Our  hardy  youth  should  learn  to  bear 
Sharp  want,  to  rein  the  warlike  steed, 

To  hurl  the  well-directed  spear 
With  pointed  force,  and  bid  the  Parthian  bleed. 

A 

Thus  form’d  in  war’s  tumultuous  trade  5 

Through  summer’s  heat,  and  winter’s  cold, 
Some  tyrant’s  queen,  or  blooming  maid, 

Shall  from  her  walls  the  martial  youth  behold, 

“  Let  not,  alas !  my  royal  spouse, 

Untaught  the  deathful  sword  to  wield,  10 
That  lion,  in  his  anger  rouse, 

Whom  furious  rage  drives  through  th’  ensanguined 
field.” 

i 

*  The  design  of  Horace  in  this  ode  is  to  recommend  forti¬ 
tude  in  bearing  the  distresses  of  war ;  virtue  in  the  pursuit  of 
the  honours  of  peace  ;  and  silence  in  preserving  the  mysteries 
of  religion.  Thus  the  ode  is  composed  of  three  parts,  regu¬ 
larly  and  naturally  connected.  We  may  believe,  by  the  fourth 
line,  that  it  was  written  before  the  conquest  of  Parthia,  but  in 
what  particular  year  is  uncertain. — Dac. 

2  The  poet  is  not  contented  with  saying  that  youth  should 
be  taught  to  suffer  want,  but  strengthens  it  with  an  epithet, 
“severe  want.”  Such  was  the  discipline  of  the  Romans  by 
which  they  subdued  the  world  ;  but  we  follow  other  maxims, 
for  luxury  and  good  cheer  dwell  in  the  camps  of  our  soldiery. 

8  This  description  is  perfectly  beautiful,  and  finely  imagined 
to  animate  a  young  warrior  to  bear  the  fatigues  of  his  profes¬ 
sion.  His  rising  valour  could  not  appear  in  a  nobler  theatre. 
It  is  probable  that  the  tyrant  here  mentioned  was  the  Parthian 
king,  whose  daughter  was  betrothed  to  some  prince  of  that 
country  ;  and  the  image  seems  to  have  been  taken  from  the 
passage  of  Homer,  where  Helen  and  the  Trojan  dames  appear 
on  the  walls,  and  view  the  Grecian  camp. — Dac.  San. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  II. 


99 


What  joys,  what  glories  round  him  wait 
Who  bravely  for  his  country  dies, 

While  with  dishonest  wounds  shall  fate  15 
Relentless  stab  the  coward  as  he  flies  ! 

With  stainless  lustre  virtue  shines, 

A  base  repulse,  nor  knows,  nor  fears  ; 

Nor  claims  her  honours,  nor  declines, 

As  the  light  air  of  crowds  uncertain  veers ;  20 

To  him,  who  not  deserves  to  die, 

She  shows  the  paths  which  heroes  trod, 

Then  bids  him  boldly  tempt  the  sky, 

Spurn  off  his  mortal  clay,  and  rise  a  god. 

To  silence  due  rewards  we  give,  25 

And  they,  who  mysteries  reveal, 

Beneath  my  roof  shall  never  live, 

Shall  never  hoist  with  me  the  doubtful  sail. 

When  Jove  in  anger  strikes  the  blow, 

Oft  with  the  bad  the  righteous  bleed :  30 

Yet  with  sure  steps,  though  lame  and  slow, 
Vengeance  o’ertakes  the  trembling  villain’s  speed. 

17  Horace  begins  here  the  second  part  of  the  ode,  with  the 
praises  of  political  or  moral  virtue,  which  is  ever  independent 
of  a  capricious,  inconstant  people,  and  by  its  own  strength 
rises  to  places  of  greatest  eminence. — Dac. 

26  He  who  discovered  the  mysteries  of  Ceres  was  driven  out 
from  the  society  of  humankind,  and  detested  as  a  wretch  un¬ 
worthy  of  the  common  offices  of  humanity.  It  was  thought 
dangerous  to  converse  with  him,  lest  Jupiter  in  his  anger 
should  confound  the  innocent  with  the  guilty.  The  Greeks  not 
only  punished  with  death  the  person  who  revealed  these  mys¬ 
teries,  but  even  those  who  listened  to  them. — Dac. 


100 


HORACE. 


ODE  III  * 

Horace  dissuades  Augustus  from  transferring  the  seat  of  empire 

to  Troy. 

The  man,  in  conscious  virtue  bold, 

Who  dares  his  secret  purpose  hold, 

Unshaken  hears  the  crowd’s  tumultuous  cries, 

And  the  impetuous  tyrant’s  angry  brow  defies. 

Let  the  wild  winds,  that  rule  the  seas  5 

Tempestuous,  all  their  horrors  raise  ; 

Let  Jove’s  dread  arm  with  thunders  rend  the 
spheres, 

Beneath  the  crush  of  worlds  undaunted  he  appears. 


*  The  boldness  of  designing,  and  singularity  of  invention ; 
the  sublimity  of  poetry,  and  artifice  of  conduct ;  the  force  of 
expression,  and  richness  of  figures ;  the  choice  of  sentiments, 
and  sweetness  of  numbers,  in  this  poem,  have  compelled  the 
critics  to  agree  that  it  is  one  of  the  noblest  odes  of  Horace. 

Julius  Caesar,  according  to  Suetonius,  had  formed  a  design 
of  transporting  the  seat  of  empire  to  Troy,  or  Alexandria,  after 
having  exhausted  Italy  of  its  treasures  and  inhabitants.  This 
was  strongly  reported  a  little  before  the  dictator  was  put  to 
death,  and  as  Augustus  seemed  willing  to  enter  into  all  the 
schemes  of  his  predecessor,  and  as  Troy  was  usually  esteemed 
the  seat  of  the  Julian  family,  the  Romans  were  apprehensive 
that  he  had  resolved  to  carry  this  project  into  execution.  It  is 
certain  that  both  Julius  Caesar  and  Augustus,  on  many  occa¬ 
sions,  showed  a  very  remarkable  inclination  in  favour  of  Troy. 
The  first  ordered  it  to  be  rebuilt ;  the  second  settled  a  colony 
there  ;  and  they  both  granted  it  considerable  privileges.  Thus 
the  report  concerning  the  dictator’s  intention  might  naturally 
make  the  people  attentive  to  the  actions  of  his  successor,  and 
their  apprehensions  might  have  engaged  the  poet  to  write  this 
ode,  in  which  he  boldly  attempts  to  dissuade  Augustus  from  his 
design,  by  representing  Juno,  in  a  full  assembly  of  the  gods, 
threatening  the  Romans  with  her  resentment,  if  they  should 
dare  to  rebuild  the  walls  of  a  city  which  had  been  always  an 
object  of  her  displeasure  and  revenge. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  III. 


101 


Thus  to  the  flamy  towers  above, 

The  vagrant  hero,  son  of  Jove,  10 

Upsoar’d  with  strength  his  own,  where  Caesar  lies, 
And  quaffs,  with  glowing  lips,  the  bowl’s  immortal 
joys. 

Lycaeus  thus  his  tigers  broke, 

Fierce  and  indocile  to  the  yoke  ; 

Thus  from  the  gloomy  regions  of  the  dead,  15 
On  his  paternal  steeds,  Rome’s  mighty  founder  fled ; 

When  heaven’s  great  queen,  with  words  benign 
Addressed  th’  assembled  powers  divine — 

Troy,  hated  Troy,  an  umpire  lewd,  unjust, 

And  a  proud  foreign  dame,  have  sunk  thee  to  the 
dust. 

.  t 

To  me,  and  wisdom’s  queen  decreed,  21 

With  all  thy  guilty  race  to  bleed, 

What  time  thy  haughty  monarch’s  perjured  sire 
Mock’d  the  defrauded  gods,  and  robb’d  them  of  their 
hire. 

The  gaudy  guest  of  impious  fame  25 

No  more  pursues  th’  adulterous  dame, 

Hector  no  more  his  faithful  brothers  leads 
To  break  the  Grecian  force ;  no  more  the  victor 
bleeds. 

Since  the  long  war  now  sinks  to  peace, 

And  all  our  heavenly  factions  cease ;  30 

Instant  to  Mars  my  vengeance  I  resign, 

And  here  receive  his  son,  though  born  of  Trojan 
line. 

11  Divine  honours  were  decreed  to  Augustus  in  the  year  725, 
and  the  poet  here  appoints  him  a  seat  in  heaven  among  the 
heroes  who  were  deified  for  their  resolution  and  constancy  to 
show  that  his  statue  was  placed  in  Rome  with  those  of  Pollux, 
Hercules,  and  Bacchus.  The  Romans  painted  the  faces  of 
these  statues  with  vermilion. 

12 


102 


HORACE. 


Here,  with  encircling  glories  bright, 

Free  let  him  tread  the  paths  of  light, 

And  rank’d  among  the  tranquil  powers  divine,  35 
Drink  deep  the  nectar’d  bowl,  and  quaff  celestial 
wine. 

From  Rome  to  Troy’s  detested  shores, 

While  loud  a  length  of  ocean  roars, 

Unenvied  let  th’  illustrious  exiles  reign, 

Where  fate  directs  their  course,  and  spreads  their 
wide  domain.  40 

On  Priam’s  and  th’  adulterer’s  urn, 

While  herds  the  dust  insulting  spurn, 

Let  the  proud  capitol  in  glory  stand, 

And  Rome,  to  triumph’d  Medes,  give  forth  her  stern 
command: 

Let  the  victorious  voice  of  fame  45 

Wide  spread  the  terrors  of  her  name 
Where  seas  the  continents  of  earth  divide, 

And  Nilus  bathes  the  plain  with  his  prolific  tide. 

Let  her  the  golden  mine  despise ; 

For  deep  in  earth  it  better  lies,  '  50 

Than  when  by  hands  profane,  from  nature’s  store, 
To  human  use  compell’d,  flames  forth  the  sacred  ore. 

Where  nature’s  utmost  limits  end, 

,  Let  her  triumphant  arts  extend ; 


37  Juno  is  not  contented  with  saying  that  a  length  of  ocean 
shall  roll  between  Troy  and  Rome,  but  shall  be  ever  enraged 
with  storms  to  hinder  all  commerce  between  the  two  nations. 
However,  it  is  remarkable  that  all  her  threats  are  confined  to 
the  Trojans,  nor  ever  fall  on  their  descendants. — Dac.  San. 

39  The  queen  of  the  gods,  in  sign  of  reconciliation,  begins  to 
foretell  the  Romans  the  most  glorious  ages  of  their  empire, 
in  repeating  the  conditions  expressed  in  the  former  verses, 
as  if  all  their  glory  depended  absolutely  on  those  conditions. 
This  turn  has  something  so  truly  sublime,  that  perhaps  the 
marvellous  of  poetry  cannot  rise  higher. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  III. 


103 


Or  where  the  sun  pours  down  his  madding  beams, 
Or  where  the  clouds  are  dark,  and  rain  perpetual 
streams.  56 

Thus  let  the  warlike  Romans  reign, 

(So  Juno  and  the  fates  ordain,) 

But  on  these  terms  alone,  no  more  to  dare 
Through  piety  or  pride,  their  parent  Troy  repair ;  60 

For  Troy  rebuilt,  ill-omen’d  state  ! 

Shall  feel  the  same  avenging  fate  ; 

Again  my  Grecians  shall  victorious  prove, 

By  me  led  on  to  war,  the  sister-wife  of  Jove. 

Thrice  should  Apollo  raise  her  wall,  65 

Thrice  shall  her  brazen  bulwarks  fall, 

Thrice  shall  her  matrons  feel  the  victor’s  chain, 
Deplore  their  slaughter’d  sons,  deplore  their  hus¬ 
bands  slain. 

But  whither  would  the  muse  aspire  1 

Such  themes  nor  suit  the  sportive  lyre,  70 
Nor  should  the  wanton,  thus  in  feeble  strain, 

The  councils  of  the  gods,  immortal  themes  !  profane. 

60  The  two  principal  motives  which  made  the  Romans  ap¬ 
prehensive  that  Augustus  intended  to  make  Troy  the  capital  of 
the  world,  were  his  piety  and  the  confidence  of  his  power.  He 
was  descended  from  the  Trojans  by  ACneas,  and  the  natural 
tenderness  for  his  ancestors,  joined  to  the  flattering  idea  of  such 
an  ancient  origin,  seemed  to  call  him  to  Troy.  The  present 
conjuncture  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  exenuting  this  change 
with  the  greatest  ease.  His  power  was  raised  to  its  highest 
pitch,  and  confirmed  by  almost  a  continual  peace  of  nine  years, 
in  which  he  had  twice  shut  the  temple  of  Janus.  He  had  now 
entered  the  East  with  two  numerous  armies,  one  of  which  he 
commanded  in  person,  the  other  was  marching  towards  Asia 
Minor  under  the  conduct  of  Tiberius. — San. 

69  Horace  could  not  push  the  subject  further  without  dis¬ 
pleasing  Augustus  ;  for  it  is  dangerous  to  let  the  great  perceive 
that  we  have  discovered  what  they  are  willing  to  conceal.  He 
therefore  stops  short,  and  ends  with  a  kind  of  artificial  vanity, 
which  is  always  pardonable  in  a  poet. — Dac  San 


104 


HORACE. 


ODE  IV.— TO  CALLIOPE. 

The  poet  describes  the  happiness  of  those  who  are  under  the 
protection  of  the  gods. 

Descend  from  heaven,  and  in  a  lengthen’d  strain, 
Queen  of  melodious  sounds,  the  song  sustain; 

Or  on  the  voice  high-raised,  the  breathing  flute, 

The  lyre  of  golden  tone,  or  sweet  Phcebean  lute. 

Hark  !  some  celestial  voice  I  raptured  hear  !  5 

Or  does  a  pleasing  phrensy  charm  my  ear? 

Through  hallow’d  groves  I  stray,  where  streams 
beneath 

From  lucid  fountains  flow,  and  zephyrs  balmy 
breathe. 

Fatigued  with  sleep,  and  youthful  toil  of  play, 
When  on  a  mountain’s  brow  reclined  I  lay  10 

Near  to  my  natal  soil,  around  my  head 
The  fabled  woodland  doves  a  verdant  foliage  spread : 

Matter,  be  sure,  of  wonder  most  profound 
To  all  the  gazing  habitants  around, 

Who  dwell  in  Acherontia’s  airy  glades,  15 

Amid  the  Bantian  woods,  or  low  Ferentum’s  meads ; 

By  snakes  of  poison  black,  and  beasts  of  prey, 
That  thus,  in  dewy  sleep,  unharm’d  I  lay  ; 

Laurels  and  myrtle  were  around  me  piled, 

Not  without  guardian  gods  an  animated  child.  20 

9  Horace  endeavours  to  persuade  his  friends,  by  the  miracles 
which  the  muses  performed  in  his  favour  when  he  was  a  boy, 
that  all  this  agreeable  prospect  is  real.  He  begins,  therefore, 
to  number  the  benefits  for  which  he  was  indebted  to  them,  and 
thus  insensibly  proceeds  to  speak  of  the  pardon  which  he  had 
received  by  their  means.  He  proposes  himself  as  the  first  ex¬ 
ample  of  their  protection,  from  whence  he  rises  to  their  affec¬ 
tion  and  care  for  Augustus. — Dae.  San. 

15  Horace  calls  Acherontia  a  nest,  because  it  was  situated 
on  rocks,  on  the  frontiers  of  Lueania.  Cicero  says  of  Ulysses, 
“  so  powerful  is  the  love  of  our  country,  that  the  wisest  of  the 
Greeks  preferred  his  Ithaca,  fixed  like  a  nest  on  rocks,  to  the 
enjoyment  of  immortality.” — Dac. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  IV. 


105 


Yours,  I  am  ever  yours,  harmonious  Nine, 
Whether  I  joy  in  Tibur’s  vale  supine  ; 

Whether  I  climb  the  Sabine  mountain’s  height, 

Or  in  PraBneste’s  groves,  or  Baian  streams  delight. 

Nor  tree  devoted,  nor  tempestuous  main,  25 
Nor  flying  hosts,  that  swept  Philippi’s  plain 
In  fearful  rout,  your  filial  bard  destroy’d, 

While  in  your  springs  divine  and  choral  sports  he 

joy’d- 

If  by  the  muse’s  faithful  guidance  led, 

Or  Libya’s  thirsty  sands  I’ll  fearless  tread,  30 

Or  climb  the  venturous  bark,  and  launch  from  shore, 
Though  Bosphorus  in  storms  with  madding  horrors 
roar. 

Nor  Britons,  of  inhospitable  strain  ; 

Nor  quiver’d  Scythians ;  nor  the  Caspian  main  ; 

Nor  he,  who  joyous  quaffs  the  thirsty  bowl,  35 
Streaming  with  horses’  blood,  shall  shake  my  daunt¬ 
less  soul. 

26  The  poet  here  collects  three  facts,  to  show  that  the  gods 
particularly  watched  over  his  preservation.  He  fled  from  the 
battle  of  Philippi  in  712;  he  escaped  being  killed  by  the  fall 
of  a  tree,  734  ;  and  he  was  preserved  from  shipwreck,  probably 
in  the  year  716,  when  he  went  aboard  the  fleet  with  Maecenas, 
to  pass  over  into  Sicily  against  Pompey.  He  never  mentions 
any  danger  of  shipwreck  to  which  he  had  been  exposed  in  his 
return  from  Philippi,  as  Acron  and  some  commentators  have 
imagined,  who  suppose  him  wandering,  with  a  tedious  and  un¬ 
certain  voyage,  through  the  Sicilian  seas,  instead  of  going  di¬ 
rectly  to  Brundusium.  Besides,  such  a  voyage  must  have  been 
as  dangerous  as  tedious ;  those  seas  being  covered  with  the 
fleets  of  Pompey  and  Domitius,  to  whom  he  was  at  that  time 
an  enemy,  by  his  accepting  an  amnesty  from  Octavius. — San. 

33  On  the  authority  of  the  scholiast  Acron,  the  commentators 
believed  that  the  Britons  sacrificed  strangers  to  the  gods  ;  and 
Torrentius  tells  us  that  in  his  time  they  were  rather  malevolent 
than  cruel  to  foreigners,  but  that  such  a  disposition  must  be  ex¬ 
pected  in  a  people  separated  from  the  whole  world. 

Mr.  Baxter  very  dexterously  applies  these  human  sacrifices 
to  the  Irish  ;  of  whom  the  character  he  tells  us  is  better  to  be 
understood,  and  gives  this  excellent  reason  for  his  decision  • 
that  St.  Jerome  (about  three  hundred  years  after  this  ode  was 
written)  saw  two  Irishmen  devouring  a  human  carcass  m 
Gaul. 


106 


HORACE. 


When  Caesar,  by  your  forming  arts  inspired, 
Cheerful  disbands  his  troops,  of  conquest  tired, 

And  yields  to  willing  peace  his  laurell’d  spoils, 

In  the  Pierian  cave  you  charm  the  hero’s  toils  ;  40 

Gracious  from  you  the  lenient  councils  flow, 
Which  bid  the  hero  spare  his  prostrate  foe  ; 

For  Caesar  rules  like  Jove,  whose  equal  sway 
The  ponderous  mass  of  earth  and  stormy  seas  obey : 

O’er  gods  and  mortals,  o’er  the  dreary  plains,  45 
And  shadowy  ghosts,  supremely  just  he  reigns : 

But,  dreadful  in  his  wrath,  to  hell  pursued, 

With  thunder’s  headlong  rage,  the  fierce  Titanian 
brood, 

Whose  horrid  youth,  elate  with  impious  pride, 
Unnumber’d,  on  their  sinewy  force  relied  ;  50 

Mountain  on  mountain  piled  they  raised  in  air, 

And  shook  the  throne  of  Jove,  and  bade  the  thun- 
derer  fear. 

But  what  could  Mimas,  of  enormous  might ; 
Typhceus  or  Porphyrion’s  threatening  height ; 

Or  bold  Enceladus  fierce-darting  far  55 

The  trunks  of  trees  uptorn,  dire  archer  of  the  war ; 

Though  with  despair  and  rage  inspired  they  rose, 
To  sage  Minerva’s  sounding  shield  oppose  1 
While  Vulcan  here  in  flames  devour’d  his  way, 
There  matron  Juno  stood,  and  there  the  god  of  day, 

38  It  is  a  noble  encomium  of  Augustus,  that  he  was  fatigued 
with  conquest,  which  he  was  always  willing  to  end  by  an  hon¬ 
ourable  peace.  Piso  having  happily  terminated  the  Thracian 
war  in  743,  Augustus  returned  to  Rome  in  the  beginning  of  the 
year  following,  with  Tiberius  and  Drusus,  who  had  reduced  the 
Germans,  the  Dacians,  and  other  nations  bordering  on  the 
Danube.  The  empire  being  thus  at  peace,  Augustus  executed 
a  decree  of  the  senate  to  shut  the  temple  of  Janus.  This 
naturally  supposes  the  disbanding  of  his  armies,  of  which 
Horace  speaks. — San. 

60  The  Roman  or  Matron  Juno  is  here  introduced  by  the  poet 
supporting  the  empire  of  heaven,  in  compliment  to  her,  as  pa¬ 
troness  and  protectress  of  his  country.  In  ancient  gems  and 
marbles  she  is  always  represented  in  a  modest  dress,  as  the 
Juno  Regina,  and  Juno  Moneta  in  a  magnificent.  She  is  cov- 


BOOK  III. - ODE  V.  107 

Resolved,  till  he  had  quell’d  the  aspiring  foe,  61 
Never  to  lay  aside  th’ unerring  bow. 

He  the  pure  dew  of  fair  Castalia  loves, 

There  bathes  his  flowing  hair,  and  haunts  his  natal 
groves. 

Ill-counsell’d  force,  by  its  own  native  weight,  65 
Precipitately  falls  ;  with  happier  fate 
While  the  good  gods  upraise  the  just  design, 

And  bold  unhallow’d  schemes  pursue  with  wrath 
divine. 

This  truth  shall  hundred-handed  Gyas  prove, 

And  warm  Orion,  who  with  impious  love  70 

Tempting  the  goddess  of  the  sylvan  scene, 

Was  by  her  virgin  darts,  gigantic  victim  !  slain. 

On  her  own  monsters  hurl’d  with  hideous  weight, 
Fond  mother  Earth  deplores  her  offspring’s  fate  ; 

By  thunders  dire  to  livid  Orcus  doom’d,  75 

Nor  fire  can  eat  its  way  through  ./Etna  unconsumed. 

Such  are  the  pains  to  lawless  lust  decreed ; 

On  Tityus’  liver  shall  the  vulture  feed 

With  rage  ungorged,  while  Pluto  stern  detains 

His  amorous  rival  bound  in  thrice  a  hundred  chains. 

ODE  V.— THE  PRAISES  OF  AUGUSTUS. 

Horace  praises  Augustus,  who  had  subdued  the  Britons  and 

Parthians. 

Dread  Jove  in  thunder  speaks  his  just  domain; 

On  earth,  a  present  god,  shall  Caesar  reign, 

Since  world-divided  Britain  owns  his  sway, 

And  Parthia’s  haughty  sons  his  high  behests  obey. 

ered  with  a  long  robe,  like  that  of  the  Roman  matrons,  who 
held  it  scandalous  to  have  any  part  uncovered  but  their  faces. 
The  figures  of  the  Roman  empresses  were  often  formed  under 
this  character  of  Juno. 

3  Strabo  informs  us  that  the  princes  of  Britain  gained  his 
friendship  by  their  embassies  and  submission.  They  carried 
their  presents  into  the  capitol,  and  made  the  Roman  people 
masters  of  their  whole  island.  Thus,  although  the  Romans 


108 


HORACE. 


Oh  name  of  country,  once  how  sacred  deem’d !  5 
Oh  sad  reverse  of  manners,  once  esteem’d  ! 

While  Rome  her  ancient  majesty  maintain’d; 

In  his  own  capitol  while  Jove  imperial  reign’d, 
Could  they  to  foreign  spousals  meanly  yield, 
Whom  Crassus  led  with  honour  to  the  field  ?  10 

Have  they,  to  their  barbarian  lords  allied, 

Grown  old  in  hostile  arms  beneath  a  tyrant’s  pride, 
Basely  forgetful  of  the  Roman  name, 

The  heaven-descended  shields,  the  vestal  flame, 
That  wakes  eternal,  and  the  peaceful  gown  ;  15 

Those  emblems,  which  the  fates  with  boundless  em¬ 
pire  crown  1 

When  Regulus  refused  the  terms  of  peace 
Inglorious,  he  foresaw  the  deep  disgrace, 

W’hose  foul  example  should  in  ruin  end, 

And  e’en  to  latest  times  our  baffled  arms  extend,  20 
Unless  the  captive  youth  in  servile  chains 
Should  fall  unpitied.  In  the  Punic  fanes 
Have  I  not  seen,  the  patriot  captain  cried, 

The  Roman  ensigns  fix’d  in  monumental  pride  1 
I  saw  our  arms  resign’d  without  a  wound  ;  25 

Our  freeborn  citizens  in  fetters  bound ; 

The  gates  of  Carthage  open ;  and  the  plain, 

Late  by  our  war  laid  waste,  with  culture  clothed 
again. 

never  triumphed  for  the  conquest  of  Britain,  yet  Augustus  was 
considered  as  having  subdued  it. 

9  It  was  a  double  infamy  to  a  Roman  soldier  to  marry  a  for¬ 
eign  woman,  and  by  such  an  alliance  to  confound  the  blood  of 
Rome  with  that  of  her  enemies. 

14  The  poet  aggravates  the  cowardice  of  the  Romans  by  this 
very  strong  reflection,  that  they  had  forgotten  the  sacred  buck¬ 
lers,  the  Roman  habit  and  name,  and  V esta’s  eternal  fire  ;  as  if 
they  had  renounced  the  divine  protection,  and  that  universal 
empire  which  was  promised  to  them  by  these  sacred  pledges. 

28  At  once  to  raise  the  courage  and  indignation  of  the  Ro¬ 
mans,  Regulus  tells  them  that,  the  Carthaginians  were  so  per¬ 
suaded  of  their  weakness,  that  although  the  war  was  not  fin- 
.shed,  they  lived  as  if  in  perfect  peace,  and  even  cultivated 
hose  lands  which  he  himself  had  laid  waste.— Dac. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  V. 


109 


Ransom’d,  no  doubt,  with  nobler  sense  of  fame 
The  soldier  shall  return — ye  purchase  shame.  30 
When  the  fair  fleece  imbibes  the  dier’s  stain, 

Its  native  colour  lost  it  never  shall  regain  ; 

And  valour,  failing  in  the  soldier’s  breast, 

Scorns  to  resume  what  cowardice  possess’d. 

When  from  the  toils  escaped,  the  hind  shall  turn  35 
Fierce  on  her  hunters,  he  the  prostrate  foe  may  spurn 
In  second  fight,  who  felt  the  fetters  bind 
His  arms  enslaved  ;  who  tamely  hath  resign’d 
His  sword  unstain’d  with  blood ;  who  might  have 
died, 

Yet  on  a  faithless  foe,  with  abject  soul,  relied ;  40 

Who  for  his  safety  mix’d  poor  terms  of  peace 
Even  with  the  act  of  war ;  oh  foul  disgrace  ! 

Oh  Carthage,  now  with  rival  glories  great, 

And  on  the  ruins  raised  of  Rome’s  dejected  state  ! 

The  hero  spoke  ;  and  from  his  wedded  dame  45 
And  infant  children  turn’d,  oppress’d  with  shame 
Of  his  fallen  state  ;  their  fond  embrace  repell’d, 

And  sternly  on  the  earth  his  manly  visage  held, 

Till,  by  his  unexampled  counsel  sway’d, 

Their  firm  decree  the  wavering  senate  made ;  50 

Then  while  his  friends  the  tears  of  sorrow  shed, 
Amid  the  weeping  throng  the  glorious  exile  sped. 

Nor  did  he  not  the  cruel  tortures  know, 

Vengeful,  prepared  by  a  barbarian  foe  ; 

Yet,  with  a  countenance  serenely  gay,  55 

He  turn’d  aside  the  crowd,  who  fondly  press’d  his 
stay ; 

As  if,  when  wearied  by  some  client’s  cause* 

After  the  final  sentence  of  the  laws, 

Cheerful  he  hasted  to  some  calm  retreat,  59 

To  taste  the  pure  delights  that  bless  the  rural  seat. 
Hor.  Vol.  I. — K 


110 


HORACE. 


ODE  VI.— TO  THE  ROMANS. 

In  this  ode  the  poet  inveighs  against  the  contempt  of  religion 
and  corruption  of  morals  among  the  Romans. 

Though  guiltless  of  your  fathers’  crimes, 
Roman,  ’tis  thine,  to  latest  times, 

The  vengeance  of  the  gods  to  bear, 

Till  you  their  awful  domes  repair, 

•  Profaned  with  smoke  their  statues  raise,  5 
And  bid  the  sacred  altars  blaze. 

That  you  the  powers  divine  obey, 

Boundless  on  earth  extend  your  sway  ; 

From  hence  your  future  glories  date, 

From  hence  expect  the  hand  of  fate.  10 

Th’  offended  gods,  in  horrors  dire, 

On  sad  Hesperia  pour’d  their  ire  : 

The  Parthian  squadrons  twice  repell’d 
Our  inauspicious  powers,  and  quell’d 
Our  boldest  efforts,  while  they  shone  15 

With  spoils,  from  conquer’d  Romans  won. 

The  Dacians,  whose  unerring  art 
Can  wing  with  death  the  pointed  dart ; 

Th’  Egyptian,  for  his  navies  famed, 

Had  Neptune’s  boundless  empire  claim’d,  20 
And  almost  in  their  rage  destroy’d 
Imperial  Rome,  in  civil  strife  employ’d. 

Fruitful  of  crimes,  this  age  first  stain’d 
Their  hapless  offspring,  and  profaned 
The  nuptial  bed,  from  whence  the  woes,  25 
That  various  and  unnumber’d  rose 
From  this  polluted  fountain-head, 

O’er  Rome,  and  o’er  the  nations  spread. 

14  The  aruspices  and  inspectors  of  the  victims  foretold  to 
Crassus  that  his  expedition  should  prove  unfortunate.  Many 
prodigies,  which  happened  while  he  stayed  at  Zeugma,  seemed 
to  confirm  their  predictions.  Crassus  despised  all  these  pres¬ 
ages,  and  hurried  forward  to  his  ruin. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  VI. 


Ill 


With  pliant  limbs  the  tender  maid 
Now  joys  to  learn  the  shameless  trade  30 
Of  wanton  dancing,  and  improves 
The  pleasures  of  licentious  loves ; 

Then  soon  amid  the  bridal  feast 
Boldly  she  courts  her  husband’s  guest ; 

Her  love  no  nice  distinction  knows,  35 

But  round  the  wandering  pleasure  throws, 
Careless  to  hide  the  bold  delight 
In  darkness,  and  the  shades  of  night. 

Nor  does  she  need  the  thin  disguise, 

The  conscious  husband  bids  her  rise,  40 

When  some  rich  factor  courts  her  charms, 

And  calls  the  wanton  to  his  arms, 

Then,  prodigal  of  wealth  and  fame, 

Profusely  buys  the  costly  shame. 

Not  such  the  youth,  of  such  a  strain,  45 
Who  died  with  Punic  gore  the  main ; 

Who  Pyrrhus’  flying  war  pursued, 

Antiochus  the  great  subdued, 

And  taught  that  terror  of  the  field, 

The  cruel  Hannibal,  to  yield :  50 

But  a  rough  race,  inured  to  toil, 

With  heavy  spade  to  turn  the  soil, 

And,  by  a  mother’s  will  severe, 

To  fell  the  wood,  and  homeward  bear 

The  ponderous  load,  even  when  the  sun  55 

His  downward  course  of  light  had  run, 

And  from  the  western  mountain’s  head 
His  changing  shadows  lengthening  spread, 
Unyoked  the  team,  with  toil  oppress’d, 

And  gave  the  friendly  hour  of  rest.  60 

What  feels  not  time’s  consuming  rage  ? 

More  vicious  than  their  fathers’  age 
Our  sires  begot  the  present  race, 

Of  manners  impious,  bold,  and  base ; 

And  yet,  with  crimes  to  us  unknown,  G5 

Our  sons  shall  mark  the  coming  age  their  own. 


112 


HORACE. 


ODE  VII.— TO  ASTERIE. 


Horace  comforts  Asterie,  troubled  for  the  absence  of  her  hus- 
band,  and  exhorts  her  to  persevere  in  her  fidelity  to  him. 

Ah  !  why  does  Asterie  thus  weep  for  the  youth 
Of  constancy  faithful,  of  honour  and  truth, 

Whom  the  first  kindly  zephyrs,  that  breathe  o’er  the 
spring, 

Enrich’d  with  the  wares  of  Bithynia  shall  bring? 
Driven  back  from  his  course  by  the  tempests,  that 
rise 

When  stars  of  mad  lustre  rule  over  the  skies,  6 
At  Oricum  now  poor  Gyges  must  stay, 

Where  sleepless  he  weeps  the  cold  winter  away ; 
While  his  landlady  Chloe,  in  sorrow  of  heart, 

Bids  her  envoy  of  love  exert  all  his  art,  10 

Who  tells  him  how  Chloe,  unhappy  the  dame ! 

Deep  sighs  for  your  lover,  and  burns  in  your  flame. 
He  tells  him  how  Prcetus,  deceived  by  his  wife, 
Attempted,  ah,  dreadful !  Bellerophon’s  life, 

And  urged  by  false  crimes,  how  he  sought  to  destroy 
The  youth  for  refusing,  too  chastely,  the  joy:  16 

How  Peleus  was  almost  despatch’d  to  the  dead, 
While  the  lovely  Magnesian  abstemious  he  fled. 
Then  he  turns  every  tale,  and  applies  it  with  art, 

To  melt  down  his  virtue,  and  soften  his  heart ;  20 

But  constant  and  heart-whole  young  Gyges  appears, 
And  deafer  than  rocks  the  tale-teller  hears. 

Then,  fair  one,  take  heed,  lest  Enipeus  should  prove 
A  little  too  pleasing,  and  tempt  thee  to  love  ; 

And  though  without  rival  he  shine  in  the  course,  25 
To  rein  the  fierce  steed  though  unequal  his  force, 

13  Homer  calls  this  wife  of  Proetus,  Antaea,  and  by  the  tragic 
poets  she  is  called  Sthenobaea.  Her  story  is  related  at  length 
in  the  sixth  book  of  the  Iliad. — Cruq. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  VIII. 


113 

Though  matchless  the  swiftness,  with  which  he 
divides, 

In  crossing  the  Tiber,  the  rough-swelling  tides, 

Yet  shut  the  fond  door  at  evening’s  first  shade, 

Nor  look  down  to  the  street  at  the  soft  serenade,  30 
Or  if  cruel  he  call  thee  in  love-sighing  strain, 

Yet  more  and  more  cruel  be  sure  to  remain. 


ODE  YIII.—' TO  MAECENAS. 

m  4 

Horace  invites  Maecenas  to  a  domestic  entertainment,  which 
he  was  resolved  to  celebrate  joyously. 

The  Greek  and  Roman  languages  are  thine, 

Their  hallow’d  customs,  and  their  rites  divine, 

And  well  you  might  the  flowery  wreath  admire, 

The  fragrant  incense,  and  the  sacred  fire, 

Raised  on  the  living  turf  to  hail  the  day,  5 

To  which  the  married  world  their  homage  pay. 

When  on  my  head  a  tree  devoted  fell, 

And  almost  crush’d  me  to  the  shades  of  hell, 
Grateful  I  vow’d  to  him,  who  rules  the  vine, 

A  joyous  banquet,  while  beneath  his  shrine  10 
A  snow-white  goat  should  bleed,  and  when  the  year 
Revolving  bids  this  festal  morn  appear, 

We’ll  pierce  a  cask  with  mellow  juice  replete, 
Mellow’d  with  smoke,  since  Tullus  ruled  the  state. 

5  A  festival  was  observed  by  the  Roman  ladies  with  much 
religious  pomp,  on  the  first  of  March,  in  memory  of  the  day 
when  the  Sabine  women,  having  reconciled  their  husbands  with 
their  fathers,  dedicated  a  temple  to  Juno.  In  this  temple  they 
offered  sacrifices  and  flowers  to  the  goddess,  and  waited  at  home 
the  rest  of  the  day  to  receive  the  presents  which  their  friends 
and  husbands  made  them,  as  if  to  thank  them  for  that  happy 
mediation. 

11  The  ancients  usually  sacrificed  to  the  gods  the  beasts 
which  they  hated.  Thus  a  goat  is  sacrificed  to  Bacchus,  be¬ 
cause  it  destroyed  the  vine.  The  victims  of  the  celestial  gods 
were  white ;  those  of  the  infernal  deities  were  black. — Cma. 

K  2 


114 


HORACE. 


Come,  then,  Maecenas,  and  for  friendship’s  sake,  15 
A  friend  preserved,  a  hundred  bumpers  take. 

Come  drink  the  watchful  tapers  up  to-day, 

While  noise  and  quarrels  shall  be  far  away. 

No  more  let  Rome  your  anxious  thoughts  engage, 
The  Dacian  falls  beneath  the  victors’  rage,  20 

The  Medes  in  civil  wars  their  arms  employ, 
Inglorious  wars  !  each  other  to  destroy  ; 

Our  ancient  foes,  the  haughty  sons  of  Spain, 

At  length,  indignant,  feel  the  Roman  chain; 

With  bows  unbent  the  hardy  Scythians  yield,  25 
Resolved  to  quit  the  long-disputed  field. 

No  more  the  public  claims  thy  pious  fears, 

Be  not  too  anxious  then  with  private  cares, 

But  seize  the  gifts  the  present  moment  brings, 
Those  fleeting  gifts,  and  leave  severer  things.  30 

19  Augustus  was  not  yet  returned  from  his  eastern  expedi¬ 
tion;  and  when  Agrippa  went  to  Spain,  Pannonia,  and  Syria, 
Maecenas  possessed  alone  the  government  of  Rome  and  Italy, 
until  September,  738,  when  he  resigned  it  to  Statilius  Taurus, 
that  he  might  follow  Augustus  into  Gaul. —  Torr.  San. 

25  It  was  the  custom  of  all  the  northern  nations  to  hold  their 
bows  unstrung,  when  they  offered  proposals  of  peace  or  truce, 
and  when  they  retired  off  the  field  of  battle. 


ODE  IX.— TO  LYDIA.* 

A  Dialogue  between  Horace  and  Lydia. 

Horace.  While  I  was  pleasing  to  your  arms 
Nor  any  youth  of  happier  charms 
Thy  snowy  bosom  blissful  press’d, 

Not  Persia’s  king  like  me  was  bless’d. 

Lydia.  While  for  no  other  fair  you  burn’d,  5 
Nor  Lydia  was  for  Chloe  scorn’d, 

What  maid  was  then  so  bless’d  as  thine  ? 

Not  Ilia’s  fame  could  equal  mine. 

*  Horace  in  this  ode  hath  found  an  art  of  joining  the  polite¬ 
ness  of  courts  to  iht:  simuiicitv  of  the  country. — Torr. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  X. 


115 


H.  Now  Chloe  reigns;  her  voice  and  lyre 
Melt  down  the  soul  to  soft  desire,  10 

Nor  will  I  fear  e’en  death,  to  save 
Her  dearer  beauties  from  the  grave. 

L.  My  heart  young  Calais  inspires, 

Whose  bosom  glows  with  mutual  fires, 

For  whom  I  twice  would  die  with  joy,  15 
If  death  would  spare  the  charming  boy. 

H.  Yet  what  if  love,  whose  bands  we  broke, 
Again  should  tame  us  to  the  yoke ; 

Should  I  shake  off  bright  Chloe’s  chain, 

And  take  my  Lydia  home  again  1  20 

L.  Though  he  exceed  in  beauty  far 
The  rising  lustre  of  a  star; 

Though  light  as  cork  thy  fancy  strays, 

Thy  passions  wild  as  angry  seas, 

When  vex’d  with  storms ;  yet  gladly  I  25 
With  thee  would  live,  with  thee  would  die. 

11  According  to  the  superstition  of  the  ancients,  who  believed 
that  the  death  of  one  person  might  be  prevented  by  that  of  an 
other.  From  hence  came  the  custom  of  those  devotements, 
made  for  the  lives  of  princes. 

20  Horace  was  willing  to  try  whether  Lydia  would  consent 
to  a  reconciliation  ;  but,  to  avoid  a  refusal,  he  leaves  the  sense 
unfinished,  and  rather  insinuates  than  expresses  his  own  incli¬ 
nation  ;  or  perhaps  the  break  is  owing  to  the  warmth  of  Lydia, 
who  interrupts  him,  and  prevents  what  he  is  going  to  say. 


ODE  X.— ' TO  LYCE. 

Horace  implores  Lyce  to  take  pity  on  him. 

Though  you  drank  the  deep  stream  of  Tanais  icy, 
The  wife  of  some  barbarous  blockhead,  oh,  Lyce, 
Yet  your  heart  might  relent  to  expose  me  reclined 
At  your  cruel  shut  door  to  the  rage  of  the  wind. 
Hark !  your  gate — how  it  creaks !  how  the  grove, 
planted  round  5 

Yon  beautiful  villa,  rebellows  the  sound  ! 


116 


HORACE. 


How  Jupiter  numbs  all  the  regions  below, 

And  glazes  with  crystal  the  fleeces  of  snow! 

Away  with  these  humours  of  pride  and  disdain, 

To  Venus  ungrateful,  to  Cupid  a  pain, 

Lest,  while  by  the  pulley  you  raise  to  the  top,  10 
Your  rope  should  run  back,  and  your  bucket  should 
drop, 

No  sprightly  Tyrrhenian  begot  thee  a  prude, 
Another  Penelope,  harsh  to  be  woo’d. 

Oh,  though  neither  presents,  nor  vow-sighing 
strain, 

Nor  violet  painting  the  cheek  of  thy  swain,  15 

Nor  thy  husband,  who  gives  up  his  heart  for  a  ditty 
To  a  song-singing  wench,  can  provoke  thee  to  pity, 
Though  like  the  hard  oak  you’re  to  softness  inclined, 
And  milder  than  all  of  the  serpentine  kind, 

Yet  think  not  this  side  can  for  ever  sustain  20 
Thy  threshold  hard-hearted,  and  sky-falling  rain. 


ODE  XI.— TO  MERCURY. 

Horace  applies  to  Mercury  to  inspire  him  with  an  ode  capable 
of  conquering  Lyde’s  obstinacy. 

Oh  thou,  by  whose  harmonious  aid, 

Amphion’s  voice  the  listening  stones  could  lead: 

And  sweetest  shell,  of  power  to  raise, 

On  seven  melodious  strings,  thy  various  lays, 

Not  vocal,  when  you  first  were  found,  5 

But  of  a  simple  and  ungrateful  sound  ; 

Now  tuned  so  sweetly  to  the  ear, 

That  gods  and  men  with  sacred  rapture  hear; 

Oh  !  thou  inspire  the  melting  strain 
To  charm  my  Lyde’s  obstinate  disdain,  10 

Who,  like  a  filly  o’er  the  field 
With  playful  spirit  bounds,  and  fears  to  yield 
To  hand  of  gentlest  touch,  or  prove, 

Wild  as  she  is,  the  joys  of  wedded  love. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  XI.  117 

’Tis  yours,  with  all  their  beasts  of  prey,  15 
To  bid  the  forests  move,  and  powerful  stay 
The  rapid  stream.  The  dog  of  hell, 

Immense  of  bulk,  to  thee  soft-soothing  fell, 

And  suppliant  bow’d,  though  round  his  head 
His  hundred  snakes  their  guardian  horrors  spread ;  20 
Baleful  his  breath  though  fiery  glow’d, 

And  from  his  three-tongued  jaws  fell  poison  flow’d. 

Ixion,  of  his  pains  beguiled, 

And  Tityus,  with  unwilling  pleasure,  smiled; 

Dry  stood  their  urn,  while  with  soft  strain  25 
You  soothed  the  labours  of  the  virgin  train 
Let  Lyde  hear,  what  pains,  decreed, 

Though  late,  in  death  attend  the  direful  deed. 

There  doom’d  to  fill,  unceasing  task  ! 

With  idle  toil,  an  ever-streaming  cask ;  20 

Impious,  who  in  the  hour  of  rest, 

Could  plunge  their  daggers  in  a  husband’s  breast. 

Yet  worthy  of  the  nuptial  flame, 

And  nobly  meriting  a  deathless  name, 

Of  many,  one  untainted  maid,  35 

Gloriously  false,  her  perjured  sire  betray’d. 

Thus  to  her  youthful  lord — Arise  ; 

Awake,  lest  sleep  eternal  close  thine  eyes; 

Eternal  sleep  :  and,  ah  !  from  whom 
You  little  dreaded  the  relentless  doom.  40 

Oh !  fly,  my  lord,  this  wrathful  sire ; 

Far  from  my  sisters,  fly,  those  sisters  dire, 

Who  riot  in  their  husbands’  blood, 

As  lionesses  rend  their  panting  food ; 

While  I,  to  such  fell  deeds  a  foe,  45 

Nor  bind  thee  here,  nor  strike  the  fatal  blow. 

Me  let  my  father  load  with  chains, 

Or  banish  to  Numidia’s  farthest  plains ; 

My  crime,  that  I  a  loyal  wife, 

In  mercy  spared  a  wretched  husband’s  life.  50 
While  Venus,  and  the  shades  of  night 
Protect  thee,  speed,  by  sea  or  land,  thy  flight. 


118 


HORACE. 


May  every  happy  omen  wait 
To  guide  thee  through  this  gloomy  hour  of  fate, 

Yet  not  forgetful  of  thy  doom,  55 

Engrave  thy  grateful  sorrow  on  my  tomb. 

ODE  XII.— TO  NEOBULE. 

In  this  ode  it  is  intimated  that  Neobule,  being  captivated  by  the 
love  of  young  Hebrus,  had  given  herself  up  to  sloth. 

Unhappy  the  maidens  forbidden  to  prove 
The  bumper’s  full  joy,  or  the  raptures  of  love  ; 
Unhappy  the  girls,  who  are  destined  to  hear 
The  tedious  rebukes  of  old  uncles  severe. 

Cytheraea’s  wing’d  son  now  bids  thee  resign  5 
The  toils  of  Minerva,  the  spinster  divine  ; 

For,  now,  Neobule,  with  other  desires 
The  brightness  of  Hebrus  thy  bosom  inspires  ; 
When  he  rises  with  vigour  from  Tiber’s  rough 
waves, 

Where  the  oil  of  his  labours  athletic  he  laves,  10 
Like  Bellerophon  skilful  to  rein  the  fierce  steed, 

At  cuffs  never  conquer’d,  nor  outstripp’d  in  speed, 
And  dext’rous  with  darts  never  flying  in  vain, 

To  wound  the  light  stag,  bounding  over  the  plain, 

Or  active  and  valiant  the  boar  to  surprise,  15 

Transfix’d  with  his  spear,  as  in  covert  he  lies. 

4  Among  the  Romans,  uncles  had  a  great  power  over  their 
nephews ;  and,  as  they  were  not  usually  so  indulgent  as  fathers, 
their  severity  passed  into  a  proverb. —  Torr. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  XIII. 


119 


ODE  XIII.— TO  THE  FOUNTAIN  BANDUSIA.* 

Horace  promises  to  the  fountain  a  sacrifice,  and  renown  from 

his  verses. 

Fountain,  whose  waters  far  surpass 
The  shining  face  of  polish’d  glass, 

To  thee,  the  goblet,  crown’d  with  flowers, 
Grateful,  the  rich  libation  pours  ; 

A  goat,  whose  horns  begin  to  spread,  5 

And,  bending,  arm  his  swelling  head, 

Whose  bosom  glows  with  young  desires, 

Which  war,  or  kindling  love  inspires, 

Now  meditates  his  blow  in  vain, — 

His  blood  shall  thy  fair  fountain  stain.  10 

When  the  fierce  dogstar’s  fervid  ray, 

Flames  forth,  and  sets  on  fire  the  day, 

To  vagrant  flocks,  that  range  the  field, 

You  a  refreshing  coolness  yield. 

Or  to  the  labour-wearied  team,  15 

Pour  forth  the  freshness  of  thy  stream. 

Soon  shalt  thou  flow  a  noble  spring, 

While  in  immortal  verse  I  sing 

The  oak,  that  spreads  thy  rocks  around, 

From  whence  thy  babbling  waters  bound.  20 

*  A  beautiful  fountain  in  the  estate  of  a  great  poet  ought  to 
be  immortal ;  and  surely  as  long  as  the  name  of  Horace  shall 
live,  or  as  long  as  poetry  shall  be  loved,  the  name  of  Bandusia 
shall  be  remembered  among  the  poetical  fountains,  Castaha, 
Aganippe,  Hippocrene,  &c.  There  is  in  this  ode  an  inimitable 
simplicity  of  description,  and  it  is  yet  more  valuable,  as  it  is  a 
curious  example  of  the  sacrifices  offered  to  fountains,  or  rather 
to  the  deities  who  presided  over  them. — Saji.  Dac. 


120 


HORACE. 


ODE  XIV.— TO  THE  ROMANS.* 

Horace  celebrates  Augustus’s  return  from  Spain. 

Thy  prince,  oh  Rome,  who  foreign  realms 
Explored  like  Jove’s  immortal  son, 

Fearless  to  search  the  laurel  wreath 
By  death  and  glorious  daring  won, 

Victorious  comes  from  farthest  Spain,  5 

To  Rome  and  all  his  guardian  gods  again. 

Let  her,  who  to  her  arms  receives 
With  joy  her  own,  her  laurell’d  spouse, 

Her  private  sacrifice  perform’d, 

Pay  to  just  Heaven  her  public  vows,  10 
And  let  the  fair  Octavia  lead 
The  matron  train  in  suppliant  veils  array’d  ; 

The  matron  train,  to  whose  glad  arms 
Their  sons,  with  conquest  crown’d,  return ; 
And  you,  fair  youth,  whose  pious  tears  15 
Your  slaughter’d  sires  and  husbands  mourn, 

*  Augustus  left  Rome  in  June  727  for  his  British  expedi¬ 
tion  ;  hut  satisfied  with  the  submission  of  that  people,  he  turned 
his  arms  against  the  Spaniards,  and  did  not  return  to  Rome  until 
the  year  730.  As  the  poet  celebrated  his  departure,  so  he  now 
celebiates  his  return  ;  and  after  having  described  the  public  cer¬ 
emonies  of  the  festival,  he  ends  with  his  enjoyment  of  the  day 
at  home  in  his  private  family. —  Torr. 

2  It  is  probable  that  the  victories  which  Augustus  gained 
over  the  Cantabrians  had  given  occasion  to  the  poets  and  ora¬ 
tors  of  the  time  to  compare  him  to  Hercules.  Horace  also  uses  a 
comparison,  which  flattery  had  rendered  sacred,  but  with  this 
advantage,  that  Augustus  now  returns  victorious  to  Rome,  as 
Hercules  formerly  went  to  Latium,  after  his  exploits  in  Spain. — 
Sanadon. 

12  The  Roman  ladies  usually  bound  their  heads,  as  a  mark 
of  their  chastity,  with  fillets,  which  common  women  durst  not 
wear.  But  Horace  rather  means  the  sacred  veils,  with  which 
they  covered  their  heads  and  hands  in  sacrifices,  public  prayers, 
and  processions  on  extraordinary  occasions. — Dac. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  XIV. 


121 


This  day  at  least  your  griefs  restrain, 

And  luckless  from  ill-omen’d  words  abstain. 

This  day,  with  truly  festal  joy, 

Shall  drive  all  gloomy  cares  away,  20 

For  while  imperial  Caesar  holds 
O’er  the  glad  earth  his  awful  sway, 

Nor  fear  of  death  from  foreign  arms. 

Nor  civil  rage  my  dauntless  soul  alarms. 

Boy,  bring  us  essence,  bring  us  crowns ;  25 

Pierce  me  a  cask  of  ancient  date, 

Big  with  the  storied  Marsian  war, 

And  with  its  glorious  deeds  replete, 

If  yet  one  jovial  cask  remain, 

Since  wandering  Spartacus  o’erswept  the  plain.  30 

Invite  Neaera  to  the  feast, 

Who  sweetly  charms  the  listening  ear, 

And  bid  the  fair  one  haste  to  bind 
In  careless  wreaths  her  essenced  hair; 

But  should  her  porter  bid  you  stay,  35 

Leave  the  rough,  surly  rogue,  and  come  away. 

When  hoary  age  upon  our  heads 

Pours  down  its  chilling  weight  of  snows, 

No  more  the  breast  with  anger  burns, 

No  more  with  amorous  heat  it  glows :  40 

Such  treatment  Horace  would  not  bear, 

When  warm  with  youth,  when  Plancus  fill'd  the 
consul’s  chair. 

42  Plancus  was  consul  in  the  year  in  which  the  battle  of 
Philippi  was  fought,  where  our  poet  appeared  in  the  cause  of 
liberty,  and  was  a  tribune,  under  Brutus  —Bond. 

Hor.  Vol.  I. — L 


122 


HORACE. 


ODE  XV.— TO  CHLORIS. 

The  poet  advises  an  old  woman  to  set  bounds  to  her  debauchery 

and  lewdness. 

Thou  poor  man’s  encumbrance,  thou  rake  of  a  wife, 
At  length  put  an  end  to  this  infamous  life ; 

Now  near  thy  long  home,  to  be  rank’d  with  the 
shades, 

Give  over  to  frisk  it  with  buxom  young  maids, 

And,  furrow’d  with  wrinkles,  profanely  to  shroud  5 
Those  bright  constellations  with  age’s  dark  cloud. 

What  Pholoe  well,  with  a  decency  free, 

Might  practise,  sits  awkward,  oh  Chloris,  on  thee. 
Like  her,  whom  the  timbrel  of  Bacchus  arouses, 
Thy  daughter  may  better  lay  siege  to  the  houses  10 
Of  youthful  gallants,  while  she  wantonly  gambols, 
Of  Nothus  enamour’d,  like  a  goat  in  its  rambles; 
The  spindle,  the  distaff,  and  wool  spinning  thrifty, 
Not  musical  instruments,  fit  thee  at  fifty, 

Nor  roses  empurpled,  enriching  the  breeze,  15 
Nor  hogsheads  of  liquor,  drunk  down  to  the  lees. 


ODE  XVI.— TO  MAECENAS. 

In  this  ode  are  depicted  the  evil  of  riches,  and  the  blessings  of 

mediocrity. 

Of  watchful  dogs  an  odious  ward 
Might  well  one  hapless  virgin  guard, 

When  in  a  tower  of  brass  immured, 

And  by  strong  gates  of  oak  secured, 

Although  by  mortal  gallants  lewd  5 

With  all  their  midnight  arts  pursued, 

Had  not  great  Jove,  and  Venus  fair 
Laugh’d  at  her  father’s  fruitless  care, 

For  well  they  knew  no  fort  could  hold 
Against  a  god  transform’d  to  gold.  10 


BOOK  III. - ODE  XVI. 


123 


Stronger  than  thunder’s  winged  force 
All-powerful  gold  can  speed  its  course, 

Through  watchful  guards  its  passage  make, 

And  loves  through  solid  walls  to  break : 

From  gold  the  overwhelming  woes,  15 

That  crush’d  the  Grecian  augur,  rose ; 

Philip  with  gold  through  cities  broke, 

And  rival  monarchs  felt  his  yoke  ; 

Captains  of  ships  to  gold  are  slaves, 

Though  fierce  as  their  own  winds  and  waves.  20 
Yet  anxious  care,  and  thirst  of  more 
Attend  the  still  increasing  store. 

While  you  in  humble  rank  appear, 

Gracing  the  knighthood,  that  you  wear, 

By  your  example  taught,  I  dread  25 

To  raise  the  far  conspicuous  head. 

The  more  we  to  ourselves  deny, 

The  more  the  gods  our  wants  supply. 

Far  from  the  quarters  of  the  great, 

Happy,  though  naked,  I  retreat,  30 

And  to  th’ unwishing  few  with  joy 
A  bless’d  and  bold  deserter  fly, 

15  Eriphyle  discovered  to  her  brother  Adrastus  where  her 
nusband  Amphiaraus  had  concealed  himself,  that  he  might  not 
be  obliged  to  go  to  the  war  of  Thebes,  from  whence  he  knew 
he  should  never  return.  She  received  a  necklace  of  pearl  as 
the  price  of  her  treachery,  and  Amphiaraus  went  to  the  siege, 
where  he  was  slain.  Her  son  Alcmascia,  in  revenge  for  his 
father,  put  her  to  death,  and  he  was  afterward  killed  by  his  un¬ 
cles  in  vengeance  for  their  sister.  Thus  Horace  justly  says, 
that  the  avarice  of  one  woman  was  the  ruin  of  the  whole 
family. — Lamb. 

17  Philip  was  advised  by  the  oracle  of  Apollo  to  fight  with 
golden  spears,  and  it  was  one  of  his  maxims  that  no  fortress 
was  impregnable  into  which  an  ass  could  enter  laden  with 
gold. 

19  Even  captains  of  ships  are  not  proof  against  the  tempta¬ 
tions  of  gold.  It  has  been  always  remarkable  that  seamen  have 
something  of  rudeness  and  fierceness  in  their  manners  and 
temper;  but  perhaps  the  poet  intended  this  remark  particularly 
against  some  captains  of  ships  at  that  time,  who  tailed  in  their 
duty,  by  being  corrupted  with  gold. —  Torr. 


124 


HORACE. 


Possess’d  of  what  the  great  despise, 

In  real,  richer  pomp  I  rise, 

Than  if,  from  fair  Apulia’s  plain,  35 

I  stored  in  heaps  the  various  grain, 

While,  of  the  wealthy  mass  secure, 

Amid  the  rich  abundance  poor. 

The  streamlet,  flowing  through  my  ground ; 
The  wood,  which  a  few  acres  bound ;  40 

The  little  farm  of  kindly  soil, 

Nor  faithless  to  its  master’s  toil, 

Shall  tell  the  consul,  whose  domain 
Extends  o’er  Afric’s  fertile  plain, 

Though  of  his  envied  lot  possess’d,  45 

He  ne’er  shall  be  like  Horace  bless’d. 

Though  nor  the  famed  Calabrian  bee 
Collects  its  golden  sweets  for  me ; 

For  me  no  Formian  vintage  grows, 

With  mellow’d  warmth  where  Bacchus  flows;  50 
Nor  on  the  verdant  Gallic  mead 
My  flocks  of  richer  fleeces  feed : 

Yet  am  I  not  with  want  oppress’d, 

Which  vainly  seeks  the  port  of  rest, 

Nor  would  thy  bounteous  hand  deny  55 

My  larger  wishes  to  supply ; 

But  while  those  wishes  I  restrain, 

Farther  I  stretch  my  small  domain 
Than  could  I  distant  kingdoms  join, 

And  make  united  empires  mine  ;  60 

For  sure  the  state  of  man  is  such, 

They  greatly  want  who  covet  much : 

Then  happy  he,  whom  Heaven  hath  fed 
With  frugal,  but  sufficient  bread. 

38  Nothing  is  more  common  than  this  poverty  in  the  midst 
of  abundance.  In  some  it  proceeds  from  avarice,  in  others 
from  prodigality,  while  he  who  is  contented  with  a  moderate 
fortune  knows  not  either  of  these  contrary  excesses,  which 
render  the  miser  and  the  prodigal  equally  wretched. — San. 


BOOK  III. - ODE  XVIII. 


125 


ODE  XVII.— TO  jELIUS  LAMIA 

The  poet  exhorts  Lamia  to  spend  the  morrow,  which  threatens 
to  be  dark  and  cloudy,  with  a  liberal  indulgence 

^Elius,  whose  ancient  lineage  springs 
From  Lamus,  founder  of  the  name, 

(From  whom  a  sacred  line  of  kings 

Shines  through  the  long  records  of  fame  ; 

From  whom  th’  illustrious  race  arose  5 

Who  first  possess’d  the  Formian  towers, 

And  reign’d  where  Liris  smoothly  flows 
To  fair  Marica’s  marshy  shores,) 

If  the  old  shower-foretelling  crow 

Croak  not  her  boding  note  in  vain,  10 

To-morrow’s  eastern  storm  shall  strow 

The  woods  with  leaves,  with  weeds  the  main. 

Then  pile  the  fuel  while  you  may, 

And  cheer  your  spirit  high  with  wine, 

Give  to  your  slaves  one  idle  day,  15 

And  feast  upon  the  fatted  swine. 

ODE  XVIII.— TO  FAUNUS.* 

Hora.ce  prays  that  Faunus  would  be  propitious  to  him. 

Faunus,  who  with  eager  flame 
Chase  the  nymphs,  thy  flying  game, 

If  a  tender  kid  distain, 

Each  returning  year,  thy  fane, 

If  with  wine  we  raise  the  soul,  5 

(Social  Venus  loves  the  bowl,) 

-r.-T-  I  ■  ■■'>' 

'  *  This  ode  is  divided  into  two  equal  parts.  The  first  contains 
the  petition  of  the  poet ;  the  second  the  benefits  of  the  god,  and 
the  acknowledgments  of  the  village. 

L  2 


126 


HORACE. 


If  thy  consecrated  shrine 
Smoke  with  odours,  breath  divine  ! 

Gently  traverse  o’er  my  bounds, 

Gently  through  my  sunny  grounds,  10 

Gracious  to  my  fleecy  breed, 

Sporting  o’er  the  flowery  mead. 

See  my  flocks  in  sportive  vein 
Frisk  it  o’er  the  verdant  plain, 

When  through  winter’s  gloom  thy  day  15 
Festal  shines,  the  peasants  play 
On  the  grassy  matted  soil, 

Round  their  oxen,  free  from  toil. 

See,  the  wolf  forgets  his  prey, 

With  my  darling  lambs  to  play;  20 

See  the  forest’s  bending  head 
At  thy  feet  its  honours  shed, 

While  with  joyful  foot  the  swain 
Beats  the  glebe  he  plough’d  with  pain. 

9  The  Romans  believed  that  many  of  their  gods  passed  their 
winter  in  one  country,  and  their  summer  in  another.  Faunus 
was  of  this  number.  He  went  from  Arcadia  to  Italy  the  thir¬ 
teenth  of  February,  and  returned  the  fifth  of  December.  His 
departure  and  return  were  celebrated  with  sacrifices,  and  prob¬ 
ably  this  ode  was  written  for  his  December  festival. — Dac. 

21  In  Italy  the  trees  shed  their  leaves  in  December;  and 
Horace  artfully  manages  this  circumstance,  as  if  the  trees 
themselves,  touched  by  the  divinity  of  Faunus,  poured  down 
their  leaves  to  cover  his  way. — Dac. 

ODE  XIX.— TO  TELEPHUS. 

Horace  advises  an  unseasonable  detailer  of  ancient  history  to 
think  rather  of  what  might  promote  the  festivity  of  the  enter¬ 
tainment. 

When  Inachus  reign’d  to  thee  is  notorious, 

When  slain  for  his  country  was  Codrus  the  glorious ; 
WThen  govern’d  the  monarchs  from  Peleus  descended, 
When  Troy  was  besieged,  and  so  bravely  defended ; 


BOOK  III. - ODE  XX. 


127 


But  where  the  best  Chian,  or  what  it  may  cost  ye,  5 
Or  how  we  may  warm  the  long  winter  and  frosty, 
Or  temper  our  water  with  embers  so  glowing, 

Ah !  Telephus,  here  thou  art  strangely  unknowing. 
Here’s  a  bumper  to  midnight ;  to  Luna’s  first 
shining ; 

A  third  to  our  friend  in  his  post  of  divining.  10 
Come  fill  up  the  bowl,  then  fill  up  your  bumpers, 
Let  three,  or  thrice  three,  be  the  jovial  of  numbers. 
The  poet  enraptured,  sure  never  refuses 
His  brimmers  thrice  three  to  his  odd-number’d 
muses ; 

But  the  graces,  in  naked  simplicity  cautious,  15 
Are  afraid  more  than  three  might  to  quarrels  de¬ 
bauch  us. 

Gay  frolick  and  mirth  to  madness  shall  fire  us ; 

Why  breathes  not  the  flute  then  with  joy  to  inspire 
us  1 

Why  hangs  on  the  wall,  in  silence  dolorous, 

The  soft-swelling  pipe,  and  the  hautboy  sonorous  1  20 
I  hate  all  the  slaves  who  are  sparing  of  labour; 

Give  us  roses  abundant,  and  let  our  old  neighbour, 
With  his  damsel,  ill  suited  to  such  an  old  fellow, 
Even  burst  with  his  envy  to  hear  us  so  mellow. 
Poor  Horace  in  flames,  how  slowly  consuming !  25 

For  Glycera  burns,  while  Chloe  the  blooming 
Her  Telephus  courts,  whose  tresses  are  beaming, 
As  are  the  bright  rays  from  Vesperus  streaming. 

ODE  XX.— TO  PYRRHUS. 

Horace  dissuades  Pyrrhus  from  endeavouring  to  force  a  beau¬ 
tiful  youth  from  his  damsel. 

Pyrrhus,  you  tempt  a  danger  high 
When  you  would  steal  from  hungry  Li¬ 
oness  her  cubs,  and  soon  shall  fly 

Inglorious. 


128 


HORACE. 


What  wars  of  horrid  form  arise  5 

Through  crowds  of  lovers  when  she  flies 
To  seek  her  boy,  and  snatch  the  prize, 

Victorious ! 

You  shoot;  she  whets  her  tusks  to  bite: 

While  he,  who  sits  to  judge  the  fight  10 

Treads  on  the  palm  with  foot  so  white, 

Disdainful ! 

And  sweetly  floating  in  the  air, 

Wanton  he  spreads  his  fragrant  hair, 

Like  Ganymede,  or  Nireus  fair,  15 

And  vainful. 


ODE  XXI. — TO  HIS  CASK. 

Horace  implores  his  cask  to  furnish  him  with  generous  wine 
in  compliment  to  Messala. 

Gentle  cask  of  mellow  wine, 

And  of  equal  age  with  mine ; 

Whether  you  to  broils  or  mirth, 

Or  to  madding  love  give  birth ; 

Or  the  toper’s  temples  steep  5 

Sweetly  in  ambrosial  sleep; 

For  whatever  various  use 
You  preserve  the  chosen  juice, 

Worthy  of  some  festal  hour, 

Now  the  hoary  vintage  pour :  10 

Come — Corvinus,  guest  divine, 

Bids  me  draw  the  smoothest  wine.  r 

Though  with  science  deep  imbued, 

He,  not  like  a  cynic  rude, 

/  . 

13  The  sciences  which  require  any  severer  study  are  apt  to 
render  men  savage  and  rude.  Epicurus  alone,  of  all  the  an¬ 
cients,  knew  how  to  humanize  the  virtue  of  a  philosopher ;  but 
his  discipies  in  general  degenerated  from  their  master  by  not  un¬ 
derstanding  his  principles. — San 


V 


BOOK  III. - ODE  XXII.  129 

Thee  despises  ;  for  of  old  15 

Cato’s  virtue,  we  are  told, 

Often  with  a  bumper  glow’d, 

And  with  social  raptures  flow’d. 

You  by  gentle  tortures  oft 
Melt  hard  tempers  into  soft ;  20 

You  strip  off  the  grave  disguise 
From  the  counsels  of  the  wise, 

And  with  Bacchus,  blithe  and  gay, 

Bring  them  to  the  face  of  day. 

Hope  by  thee,  fair  fugitive  !  25 

Bids  the  wretched  strive  to  live ; 

To  the  beggar  you  dispense 
Heart  and  brow  of  confidence  ; 

Warm’d  by  thee  he  scorns  to  fear 
Tyrant’s  frown,  or  soldier’s  spear.  30 

Bacchus  boon,  and  Venus  fair, 

(If  she  come  with  cheerful  air,) 

And  the  graces,  charming  band! 

Ever  dancing  hand-in-hand; 

And  the  living  taper’s  flame  35 

Shall  prolong  thy  purple  stream, 

Till  returning  Phoebus  bright 
Puts  the  lazy  stars  to  flight. 

ODE  XXII.— TO  DIANA. 

Horace  promises  an  annual  thanksgiving  for  the  happy  delivery 

of  his  mistress. 

Of  groves  and  mountains  guardian  maid, 
Invoked  by  three  mysterious  names  ; 
Goddess  three-form’d,  whose  willing  aid 
With  gracious  pow’r  appears  display’d, 

From  death  to  save  our  pregnant  dames.  5 


\ 


130 


HORACE. 


To  thee  I  consecrate  the  pine, 

That  nodding  waves  my  villa  round. 

And  here,  beneath  thy  hallow’d  shrine 
Yearly  shall  bleed  a  festal  swine, 

That  meditates  the  sidelong  wound.  10 

ODE  XXIII.— TO  PHIDYLE. 

The  design  of  this  ode  is  to  show  that  the  blessings  of  the  gods 
are  not  so  effectually  secured  by  costly  as  by  pure  oblations. 

If  on  the  new-born  moon,  with  hands  supine, 

My  Phidyle,  laborious  rustic,  prays  ; 

If  she  with  incense,  and  a  ravening  swine, 

And  yearly  fruits,  her  household  gods  appease, 

Nor  pestilential  storm  shall  smite  her  vines,  5 
Nor  barren  mildew  shall  her  harvests  fear, 

Nor  shall  her  flocks,  when  the  sad  year  declines, 
Beneath  its  fruitage,  feel  th’  autumnal  air. 

Let  the  devoted  herds,  that  lowing  feed 
In  snow-topp’d  Algidon’s  high-branching  wood,  10 
Or  the  fair  kine  of  rich  Albania  bleed, 

And  stain  the  pontiff’s  hallow’d  axe  with  blood ; 

The  little  gods,  around  thy  sacred  fire, 

No  vast  profusion  of  the  victim’s  gore, 

But  pliant  myrtle  wreaths  alone  require,  15 

And  fragrant  herbs,  the  pious,  rural  store. 

A  grateful  cake,  when  on  the  hallow’d  shrine 
Offer’d  by  hands,  that  know  no  guilty  stain, 

Shall  reconcile  th’  offended  powers  divine, 

When  bleeds  the  pompous  hecatomb  in  vain.  20 

6  Huetius  gives  an  ingenious  and  probable  account  of  this 
blight  or  mildew  in  corn.  He  fancies  that  the  drops  of  dew, 
being  collected,  are  like  convex  or  burning  glasses ;  which 
being  heated  by  the  rays  of  the  sun,  contract  a  caustic  quality, 
that  burns  the  grain,  fruits,  flowers,  or  leaves-  on  which  they  lie. 


I 


BOOK  III. - ODE  XXIV. 


131 


ODE  XXIV.— AGAINST  MISERS.* 

The  poet  inveighs  against  the  vices  of  his  age,  and  proposes 

remedies  for  them. 

Though  of  th’  unrifled  gold  possess’d 
Of  gorgeous  Ind,  and  Araby  the  bless’d  : 

Though  with  hewn,  massy  rocks  you  raise 
Your  haughty  structures  mid  th’  indignant  seas, 

Yet,  soon  as  fate  shall  round  your  head,  5 
With  adamantine  strength,  its  terrors  spread, 

Not  the  dictator’s  power  shall  save 
Your  soul  from  fear,  your  body  from  the  grave. 

Happy  the  Scythians,  houseless  train ! 

Who  roll  their  vagrant  dwellings  o’er  the  plain ;  10 

Happy  the  Getes,  fierce  and  brave, 

Whom  no  fix’d  laws  of  property  enslave  1 
While  open  stands  the  golden  grain, 

The  freeborn  fruitage  of  the  unbounded  plain, 

Succeeding  yearly  to  the  toil,  15 

They  plough  with  equal  tasks  the  public  soil. 

Not  there  the  guiltless  stepdame  knows 
The  baleful  draught  for  orphans  to  compose ; 

No  wife  high-portion’d  rules  her  spouse, 

Or  trusts  her  essenced  lover’s  faithless  vows  ;  20 

The  lovers  there  for  dowry  claim 
The  father’s  virtue,  and  the  mother’s  fame, 

*  To  instruct  with  dignity  and  delight  is  almost  the  peculiar 
character  of  lyric  poetry,  which  creates  respect  for  moral  truth 
by  sublimity  of  sentiments,  majesty  of  cadence,  boldness  of 
figures,  and  force  of  expression,  while  it  prevents  disgust  by  its 
brevity,  variety,  and  a  choice  of  ornaments,  which'  a  good  poet 
knows  how  to  use  with  propriety.  Among  a  great  number  of 
pieces  which  Horace  wrote  in  this  kind,  the  present  ode  is  not 
the  least  estimable,  it  is  naturally  divided  into  three  parts :  in 
the  first  he  exposes  the  licentious  enormities  of  his  age ;  in  the 
second  he  discovers  their  causes ;  and  applies  their  proper 
remedies  in  the  third. — San. 

21  There  were  four  things  which  ensured  the  happiness  of 
marriage  among  the  Scythians.  A  virtuous  education  ;  an  at 
tachment  of  wives  to  their  husbands  ;  their  horror  of  conjugal 
infidelity ;  and  the  rigour  of  their  laws,  which  punished  that 
crime  with  death. — San 


132 


HORACE. 


That  dares  not  break  the  nuptial  tie, 

Polluted  crime  !  whose  portion  is  to  die. 

Oh !  that  some  patriot,  wise  and  good,  25 
Would  stop  this  impious  thirst  of  civil  blood, 

And  joy  on  statutes  to  behold 
His  name,  the  father  of  the  state,  enroll’d ! 

Oh  !  let  him  quell  our  spreading  shame, 

And  live  to  latest  times  an  honour’d  name.  30 
Though  living  virtue  we  despise, 

We  follow  her,  when  dead,  with  envious  eyes; 

But  wherefore  do  we  thus  complain, 

If  justice  wear  her  awful  sword  in  vain  I 

And  what  are  laws,  unless  obey’d  35 

By  the  same  moral  virtues  they  were  made  ? 

If  neither  burning  heats  extreme, 

Where  eastern  Phoebus  darts  his  fiercest  beam, 

Nor  where  the  northern  tempest  blows, 

And  freezes  down  to  earth  th’  eternal  snows,  40 
Nor  the  wild  terrors  *of  the  main 
Can  daunt  the  merchant,  and  his  voyage  restrain  ; 

If  want,  ah,  dire  disgrace  !  we  fear, 

From  thence  with  vigour  act,  with  patience  bear, 
While  virtue’s  paths  untrodden  lie,  45 

Those  paths  that  lead  us  upward  to  the  sky  I 
Oh  !  let  us  consecrate  to  Jove 
(Rome  shall  with  shouts  the  pious  deed  approve) 
Our  gems,  our  gold,  pernicious  store  ! 

Or  plunge  into  the  deep  the  baleful  ore.  50 

If  you,  indeed,  your  crimes  detest, 

Tear  forth,  uprooted  from  the  youthful  breast 

51  Horace  here  speaks  the  clear  language  of  the  stoics,  who 
carried  morality  to  an  impracticable  rigour.  One  of  their  un¬ 
meaning  dogmas  was,  that  we  ought  to  extinguish  our  passions. 
Epicurus,  on  the  contrary,  directs  us  to  moderate  our  natural 
appetites,  to  regulate  them  by  reason,  and  to  make  them  subser¬ 
vient  to  our  happiness.  This  is  wise  advice  indeed,  for  our 
passions  are  inseparable  from  our  humanity,  nor  can  we  divest 
ourselves  of  them  without  ceasing  to  be  men.  When  they  are 
well  conducted,  they  become  instruments  of  the  most  eminent 
virtues. — San. 


BOOK  III. — ODE  XXV. 


133 


The  seeds  of  each  depraved  desire, 

While  manly  toils  a  firmer  soul  inspire. 

Nor  knows  our  youth,  of  noblest  race,  55 
To  mount  the  managed  steed,  or  urge  the  chase ; 

More  skill’d  in  the  mean  arts  of  vice, 

The  whirling  troque,  or  law-forbidden  dice : 

And  yet  his  worthless  heir  to  raise 
To  hasty  wealth,  the  perjured  sire  betrays  60 

His  partners,  coheirs,  and  his  friends  ; 

But,  while  in  heaps  his  wicked  wealth  ascends, 

He  is  not  of  his  wish  possess’d, 

There’s  something  wanting  still  to  make  him  bless’d. 

58  All  games  of  hazard  were  forbidden  by  several  laws,  ex¬ 
cept  during  the  Saturnalia.  Suetonius  tells  us,  Augustus  not 
only  played  in  that,  but  in  all  other  festivals. 


ODE  XXV.— TO  BACCHUS. 

Being  elevated  through  the  inspiration  of  Bacchus,  the  poet’s 
design  is  to  praise  Augustus. 

Whither,  in  sacred  ecstasy, 

Bacchus,  when  full  of  thy  divinity, 

Dost  thou  transport  me  1  To  what  glades  ? 
What  gloomy  caverns,  unfrequented  shades  1 

In  what  recesses  shall  I  raise  5 

My  voice  to  sacred  Caesar’s  deathless  praise, 

Amid  the  stars  to  bid  him  shine, 

Rank’d  in  the  councils  of  the  powers  divine  1 
Some  bolder  song  shall  wake  the  lyre, 

And  sounds  unknown  its  trembling  strings  inspire.  10 
Thus  o’er  the  steepy  mountain’s  height, 
Starting  from  sleep,  thy  priestess  takes  her  flight ; 

Amazed,  behold  the  Thracian  snows, 

With  languid  streams  where  icy  Heber  flows ; 

Or  Rhodope’s  high-towering  head,  15 

Where  frantic  choirs  barbarian  measures  tread. 
Hor.  Yol.  I. — M 


134 


HORACE. 


O’er  pathless  rocks,  through  lonely  groves, - 
With  what  delight  my  raptured  spirit  roves ! 

Oh  thou,  who  rul’st  the  Naiad’s  breast; 

By  whom  the  Bacchanalian  maids,  possess’d  15 
With  sacred  rage  inspired  by  thee. 

Tear  from  the  bursting  glebe  th’  uprooted  tree ; 

Nothing  or  low,  or  mean,  I  sing, 

No  mortal  sound  shall  shake  the  swelling  string. 

The  venturous  theme  my  soul  alarms,  25 
But  warm’d  by  thee  the  thought  of  danger  charms. 

When  vine-crown’d  Bacchus  leads  the  way 
What  can  his  daring  votaries  dismay  1 

ODE  XXVI.— TO  VENUS, 

Our  author  bids  farewell  to  love. 

I  lately  was  fit  to  be  call’d  upon  duty, 

And  gallantly  fought  in  the  service  of  beauty ; 

But  now  crown’d  with  conquest  I  hang  up  my  arms  $ 
My  harp,  that  campaign’d  it  in  midnight  alarms. 
Here  fix  on  this  wall,  here  my  ensigns  of  wars ;  5 
By  the  statue  of  Venus,  my  torches  and  bars, 

And  arrows,  which  threatened,  by  Cupid  their  liege, 
War,  war  on  all  doors,  that  dare  hold  out  a  siege. 

Oh,  goddess  of  Cyprus,  and  Memphis,  that  know 
Nor  the  coldness  or  weight  of  love-chilling  snow ;  10 
With  a  highdifted  stroke,  yet  gently  severe, 

Avenge  me  on  Chloe,  the  proud  and  the  fair  I 


ODE  XXVII. — TO  GALATEA. 

Horace  endeavours  to  deter  Galatea  from  a  voyage,  by  setting 
before  her  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  and  particularly  the  ex¬ 
ample  of  Europa. 

Fierce  from  her  cubs  the  ravening  fox, 

Or  wolf  from  steep  Lanuvian  rocks, 


BOOK  III.— ODE  XXVII.  135 

Or  pregnant  bitch,  or  chattering  jay, 

Ill-omen’d,  guide  the  wicked  on  their  way ; 

Serpents,  like  arrows,  sidelong  thwart  5 
The  road,  and  make  their  horses  start. 

For  those  I  love,  with  anxious  fear 
I  view  the  doubtful  skies,  a  prudent  seer ; 

And  bid  the  chanting  raven  rise 
When  Phoebus  gilds  his  orient  skies  ;  10 

Ere  speeds  the  shower-boding  crow 
To  lakes,  whose  languid  waters  cease  to  flow. 
Happy  may  Galatea  prove, 

Nor  yet  unmindful  of  our  love ; 

For  now  no  luckless  pie  prevails,  15 

Nor  vagrant  crow  forbids  the  swelling  sails. 

Yet  see  what  storms  tumultuous  rise, 

While  prone  Orion  sweeps  the  skies. 

I  know  the  Adriatic  main, 

And  western  winds,  perfidiously  serene.  20 

But  may  the  rising  tempest  shake 
Our  foes,  and  dreadful  o’er  them  break ; 

For  them  the  blackening  ocean  roar, 

And  angry  surges  lash  the  trembling  shore, 

When  on  her  bull  Europa  rode,  25 

Nor  knew  she  press’d  th’  imperial  god, 

Bold  as  she  was,  th’  affrighted  maid 
The  rolling  monsters  of  the  deep  survey’d. 

Late  for  the  rural  nymphs  she  chose 
Each  flower,  a  garland  to  compose ;  SO 

But  now,  beneath  the  gloom  of  night, 

Views  nought  but  seas,  and  stars  of  feeble  light. 


19  Horace  knew  the  Adriatic  sea  in  his  voyage  to  Athens, 
when  he  went  to  study  philosophy  there  ;  and  a  second  time  in 
his  return  to  Italy,  after  the  battle  of  Philippi. 

25  Galatea  was  preparing  to  embark,  because  the  skies  were 
serene,  and  the  seas  calm ;  but  Horace  tells  her  that  Europa 
was  deceived  by  the  same  serenity  of  the  skies  and  calmness  of 
the  seas ;  that  she  soon  had  reason  to  repent  of  her  boldness, 
when  she  saw  nothing  round  her  but  stars  and  waves.  Such 
is  the  force  and  justness  of  the  comparison. —  Ton. 


136 


HORACE. 


Soon  as  she  touch’d  the  Cretan  shore, 

“  My  sire,”  she  cries ;  “  ah !  mine  no  more  ; 

For  every  pious  tender  name  35 

Is  madly  lost  in  this  destructive  flame. 

“  Where  am  I,  wretched  and  undone! 

And  shall  a  single  death  atone 
A  virgin’s  crime  !  or  do  my  fears 
Deplore  the  guilty  deed  with  waking  tears  ?  40 

“  Or  am  I  yet,  ah  !  pure  from  shame, 

Mock’d  by  a  vain,  delusive  dream ! 

Could  I  my  springing  flow’rets  leave 
To  tempt  through  length  of  seas  the  faithless  wave  1 
“  While  thus  with  just  revenge  possess’d,  45 
How  could  I  tear  that  monstrous  beast ! 

How  would  I  break,  by  rage  inspired, 

Those  horns,  alas  !  too  fondly  once  admired  1 
“  Shameless,  my  father’s  gods  I  fly ; 
Shameless,  and  yet  I  fear  to  die.  50 

Hear  me,  some  gracious,  heavenly  power, 

Let  lions  fell  this  naked  corse  devour. 

“  My  cheeks  ere  hollow  wrinkles  seize ; 

Ere  yet  their  rosy  bloom  decays  ; 

While  youth  yet  rolls  its  vital  flood ;  55 

Let  tigers  fiercely  riot  in  my  blood. 

“  But  hark  !  I  hear  my  father  cry, 

‘  Make  haste,  unhappy  maid,  to  die ; 

And  if  a  pendent  fate  you  choose, 

Your  faithful  girdle  gives  the  kindly  noose ;  60 

“  ‘  Or  if  you  like  a  headlong  death, 

Behold  the  pointed  rocks  beneath ; 

Or  plunge  into  the  rapid  wave, 

Nor  live  on  haughty  tasks,  a  spinster-slave, 

“  ‘  Some  rude  barbarian’s  concubine,  65 
Born  as  thou  art  of  royal  line.’  ” 

Here  the  perfidious-smiling  dame, 

And  idle  Cupid  to  the  mourner  came ; 

A  while  she  rallied  with  the  fair, 

Then  with  a  grave  and  serious  air,  70 


BOOK  III. — -’•ODE  XXVIII.  137 

“  Indulge,”  she  cries,  “  thy  rage  no  more, 

This  odious  bull  shall  yield  him  to  thy  power. 

“  Yet  sigh  no  more  but  think  of  love ; 

For  know  thou  art  the  wife  of  Jove  ; 

Then  learn  to  bear  thy  future  fame  75 

When  earth’s  wide  continent  shall  boast  thy  name.” 

76  Horace  follows  the  poetical  tradition,  for  it  is  more  proba¬ 
ble  that  Europe  took  its  name  from  a  province  of  Northern 
Macedonia,  called  Europia.  The  ancients  divided  the  whole 
earth  into  two  parts,  Europe  and  Asia. — San.  Dac. 


ODE  XXVIII.— TO  LYDE. 

Horace  invites  Lyde  to  his  house  to  celebrate  the  feast  of 

Neptune. 

Say,  what  shall  I  do  on  the  festival  day 
Of  Neptune  1  Come,  Lyde,  without  more  delay, 
And  broach  the  good  creature,  invaulted  that  lies ; 
Cast  off  all  reserve,  and  be  merry  and  wise. 

The  evening  approaches,  you  see,  from  yon  hill ;  5 
And  yet,  as  if  Phoebus,  though  winged,  stood  still, 
You  dally  to  bring  us  a  cup  of  the  best, 

Condemn’d,  like  its  consul,  ignobly  to  rest. 

With  voices  alternate,  the  sea-potent  king, 

And  the  Nereids,  with  ringlets  of  azure,  we’ll 
sing.  10 

From  the  sweet-sounding  shell  thy  hand  shall  raise 
Latona’s,  and  swift-darting  Cynthia’s  praise. 

The  gay-smiling  goddess  of  love  and  delight, 

Who  rules  over  Cnidus,  and  Cyclades  bright, 

And  guiding  her  swrans  with  a  soft  silken  rein,  15 
Revisits  her  Paphos,  shall  crown  the  glad  strain. 
Then  to  the  good  night,  while  bumpers  elate  us, 
We’ll  sing  a  farewell,  and  a  decent  quietus, 

M2 


138 


HORACE. 


ODE  XXIX.— TO  MAECENAS.* 

Horace  invites  Maecenas  to  a  frugal  entertainment,  and  admon¬ 
ishes  him  to  lay  aside  all  anxious  cares  about  futurity. 

Descended  from  an  ancient  line, 

That  once  the  Tuscan  sceptre  sway’d, 

Haste  thee  to  meet  the  generous  wine, 

Whose  piercing  is  for  thee  delay’d  ; 

For  thee  the  fragrant  essence  flows,  5 

For  thee,  Maecenas,  breathes  the  blooming  rose. 

From  the  delights,  oh !  break  away, 

WTuch  Tibur’s  marshy  prospect  yields, 

Nor  with  unceasing  joy  survey 

Fair  JEsula’s  declining  fields ;  10 

No  more  the  verdant  hills  admire 
Of  Telegon,  who  kill’d  his  aged  sire. 

Instant  forsake  the  joyless  feast, 

Where  appetite  in  surfeit  dies, 

And  from  the  tower’d  structure  haste,  15 

That  proudly  threatens  to  the  skies ; 

From  Rome  and  its  tumultuous  joys, 

Its  crowds,  and  smoke,  and  opulence,  and  noise. 

\  * 

*  We  may  say  of  the  odes  of  Horace,  what  has  been  said  of 
the  orations  of  Demosthenes,  the  iambic  poems  of  Archilochus, 
and  the  letters  of  Atticus,  that  the  longest  are  not  the  least 
beautiful.  To  support  one  continued  flight  of  poetry  deserves 
its  praise,  but  Horace  in  this  ode  rises  without  ceasing,  until  he 
has  gained  a  point  of  elevation  to  which  no  other  poet  ever 
soared.  Such  is  the  judgment  of  Scaliger,  who  seldom  praises 
without  reason. — San. 

8  Maecenas  could  command  the  prospect  of  the  three  cities 
which  Horace  names,  from  his  house  on  the  Esquiline  hill, 
where  Nero  afterward  sat  to  behold  the  burning  of  Rome.  The 
fall  of  houses  was  so  frequent,  occasioned  by  their  being  built  so 
high,  that  Augustus  published  a  law  which  forbade  them  to  be 
raised  above  seventy  feet. 

17  We  may  compute  how  great  the  noise  of  a  city  must  have 
been  which  reckoned  three  millions  of  inhabitants,  whose  ci*- 


BOOK  III. - ODE  XXIX. 


139 


Where  health-preserving  plainness  dwells, 

Nor  sleeps  upon  the  Tyrian  die,  20 

To  frugal  treats,  and  humble  cells, 

With  grateful  change  the  wealthy  fly. 

Such  scenes  have  charm’d  the  pangs  of  care, 
And  smooth’d  the  clouded  forehead  of  despair. 

Andromeda’s  conspicuous  sire  25 

Now  darts  his  hidden  beams  from  far ; 

The  lion  shows  his  madd’ning  fire, 

And  barks  fierce  Procyon’s  raging  star, 

While  Phoebus,  with  revolving  ray, 

Brings  back  the  burnings  of  the  thirsty  day.  30 

Fainting  beneath  the  swelt’ring  heat, 

To  cooling  streams  and  breezy  shades 
The  shepherd  and  his  flocks  retreat, 

While  rustic  sylvans  seek  the  glades, 

Silent  the  brook  its  borders  laves,  35 

Nor  curls  one  vagrant  breath  of  wind  the  waves. 

But  you  for  Rome’s  imperial  state, 

Attend  with  ever-watchful  care, 

Or,  for  the  world’s  uncertain  fate 
Alarm’d,  with  ceaseless  terror  fear;  40 

Anxious  what  eastern  wars  impend, 

Or  what  the  Scythians  in  their  pride  intend. 

But  Jove,  in  goodness  ever  wise, 

Hath  hid,  in  clouds  of  depthless  night 

cuit,  according  to  Pliny,  including  the  suburbs,  was  forty-eight 
miles ;  and  where  the  houses  might  be  raised  seven  stories, 
each  of  them  ten  feet  high.  Lampridius  tells  us  that  Helioga- 
balus  collected  ten  thousand  pounds  weight  of  cobwebs  in 
Rome. 

37  This  is  a  noble  compliment,  that  while  all  nature  is  lan¬ 
guishing  in  idleness  and  inactivity  ;  while  the  gods  themselves 
are  asleep,  yet  Maecenas  is  always  vigilant ;  always  anxious  for 
the  safety  of  Rome  and  of  the  empire.  The  gods  may  sleep, 
since  Maecenas  watches  over  the  safety  of  the  state. 


140 


HORACE. 


All  that  in  future  prospect  lies  45 

Beyond  the  ken  of  mortal  sight, 

And  laughs  to  see  vain  man  oppress’d 
With  idle  fears,  and  more  than  man  distress’d- 

Then  wisely  form  the  present  hour ; 

Enjoy  the  bliss  that  it  bestows ;  '  50 

The  rest  is  all  beyond  our  power, 

And  like  the  changeful  Tiber  flows, 

Who  now  beneath  his  banks  subsides, 

And  peaceful  to  his  native  ocean  glides ; 

But  when  descends  a  sudden  shower,  55 

And  wild  provokes  his  silent  flood, 

The  mountains  hear  the  torrent  roar, 

And  echoes  shake  the  neighbouring  wood, 
Then  swoin  with  rage  he  sweeps  away 
Uprooted  trees,  herds,  dwellings  to  the  sea,  60 

Happy  the  man,  and  he  alone, 

Who,  master  of  himself,  can  say, 

To-day  at  least  hath  been  my  own, 

For  I  have  clearly  lived  to-day  : 

Then  let  to-morrow’s  clouds  arise,  65 

Or  purer  suns  o’erspread  the  cheerful  skies. 

Not  Jove  himself  can  now  make  void 
The  joy  that  wing’d  the  flying  hour ; 

The  certain  blessing  once  enjoy’d, 

Is  safe  beyond  the  godhead’s  power :  70 

Nought  can  recall  the  acted  scene, 

What  hath  been,  spite  of  Jove  himself,  hath  been. 

But  Fortune,  ever-changing  dame, 

Indulges  her  malicious  joy. 

And  constant  plays  her  haughty  game,  75 
Proud  of  her  office  to  destroy ; 

52  This  description  of  the  Tiber  is  a  perfect  image  of  the  vi 
cissitudes  of  human  life,  and  the  moral  of  it  is  animated  with  A 
poetical  spirit,  which  gives  it  life  and  being 


BOOK  III. - ODE  XXX. 


141 


To-day  to  me  her  bounty  flows, 

And  now  to  others  she  the  bliss  bestows. 

I  can  applaud  her  while  she  stays, 

But  if  she  shake  her  rapid  wings,  80 

I  can  resign  with  careless  ease 
The  richest  gifts  her  favour  brings  ; 

Then  folded  lie  in  Virtue’s  arms, 

And  honest  Poverty’s  undower’d  charms. 

Though  the  mast  howl  beneath  the  wind,  85 
I  make  no  mercenary  prayers. 

Nor  with  the  gods  a  bargain  bind 
With  future  vows,  and  streaming  tears, 

To  save  my  wealth  from  adding  more 
To  boundless  ocean’s  avaricious  store ;  90 

Then  in  my  little  barge  I’ll  ride, 

Secure  amid  the  foamy  wave, 

Calm  will  I  stem  the  threatening  tide, 

And  fearless  all  its  tumults  brave ; 

Even  then  perhaps  some  kinder  gale,  95 

While  the  twin  stars  appear,  shall  fill  my  joyful  sail. 


ODE  XXX.— TO  MELPOMENE. 

Horace  promises  himself  an  immortality  of  fame  from  his 
poetical  writings. 

More  durable  than  brass,  the  frame 
Which  here  I  consecrate  to  Fame ; 

Higher  than  pyramids  that  rise. 

With  royal  pride,  to  brave  the  skies  ; 

Nor  years,  though  numberless  the  train,  5 
Nor  flight  of  seasons,  wasting  rain, 

Nor  winds,  that  loud  in  tempests  break, 

Shall  e’er  its  firm  foundation  shake. 

Nor  shall  the  funeral  pyre  consume 
My  fame ;  that  nobler  part  shall  bloom,  10 


142 


HORACE. 


With  youth  unfading  shall  improve, 

While  to  th’  immortal  fane  of  Jove 
The  vestal  maids,  in  silent  state 
Ascending,  on  the  pontiff  wait. 

With  rapid  course  and  deaf’ning  waves  15 
Where  Aufidus  impetuous  raves, 

And  where  a  poor,  enervate  stream 
From  banish’d  Daunus  takes  its  name, 

O’er  warlike  realms  who  fix’d  his  throne, 

Shall  Horace,  deathless  bard,  be  known,  20 

Who  first  attempted  to  inspire 

With  Grecian  sounds  the  Roman  lyre. 

With  conscious  pride,  oh  muse  divine  J 
Assume  the  honours  justly  thine : 

With  laurel  wreaths  my  head  surround, 

Such  as  the  god  of  verse  have  crown’d.  25 

14  The  pontiff  or  high-ppest  alone  pronounced  any  word 
concerning  religion  in  public  sacrifices,  and  the  vestal  virgin^ 
who  attended  him  to  the  capitol,  were  obliged  to  preserve 
solemn  silence. — San. 


fiOOK  IV. 

ODE  I.— TO  VENUS.* 

f 

la  this  ode  the  poet  intimates  that  he  had  arrived  at  an  age' 
when  he  ought  no  longer  to  think  of  love. 

Again  new  tumults  fire  my  breast ! 

Ah!  spare  me,  Venus ;  let  thy  suppliant  rest. 

I  am  no  more,  alas !  the  swain 
I  was  in  Cynara’s  indulgent  reign. 

Fierce  mother  of  the  Loves,  no  more  5 

Attempt  to  bend  me  to  thy  charming  power, 
Harden’d  with  age ;  but  swift  repair 
Where  youth  invokes  thee  with  the  soothing  prayer. 

Would  you  inflame  with  young  desire 
A  bosom  worthy  of  thy  purest  fire,  10 

To  Paulus  guide,  a  welcome  guest, 

Thy  purple  swans,  and  revel  in  his  breast. 

Of  noble  birth,  and  graceful  made, 

Nor  silent  when  affliction  claims  his  aid, 

He,  with  a  hundred  conquering  arts,  15 

Shall  wave  thy  banners  Wide  o’er  female  hearts. 

When  more  successful  he  shall  prove, 

And  laugh  at  rivals,  who  with  gifts  make  love, 

Thou  in  a  citron  dome  shalt  stand, 

Form’d  by  the  sculptor’s  animating  hand.  20 

There  shall  th’  abundant  incense  flame, 

And  thou  transported  quaff  the  rising  stream ; 

*  The  greater  part  of  the  odes  in  this  book  were  written  in 
the  last  five  or  sit  years  of  our  poet’s  life. — Dae. 

3  Horace  had  solemnly  renounced  all  his  gallantries  at  the 
age  of  forty,  but  he  afterward  fell  in  love  with  Glycera,  and  at 
fifty  years  of  age  is  again  engaged  in  his  present  passion.^i?^. 


144 


HORACE. 


There  shall  the  powers  of  music  join. 

And  raise  the  song  with  harmony  divine  : 

There  shall  the  youths  and  virgins  pay  25 
To  thee  their  grateful  offerings  twice  a  day  ; 

Like  Salian  priests  the  dance  shall  lead, 

And  many  a  mazy  measure  round  thee  tread. 

For  me,  alas  !  those  joys  are  o’er ; 

For  me  the  vernal  garland  blooms  no  more ;  30 

No  more  the  feats  of  wine  I  prove, 

Nor  the  delusive  hopes  of  mutual  love. 

Yet  why,  ah  !  fair  one,  still  too  dear, 

Steals  down  my  cheek  th’  involuntary  tear? 

Or,  why  thus  falter  o’er  my  tongue  35 

The  words,  which  once  harmonious  pour’d  along? 

Swift  through  the  fields  and  flowing  streams 
I  follow  thee  in  visionary  dreams  ; 

Now,  now  I  seize,  1  clasp  thy  charms, 

And  now  you  burst,  ah,  cruel !  from  my  arms.  40 

ODE  II.— TO  ANTONIUS  IULUS.* 

Horace,  being  desired  to  celebrate  the  victories  of  Augustus  in 
Pindaric  verse,  excuses  himself  in  such  a  manner,  that  the 
very  excuse  performs  what  he  seems  to  decline. 

He,  who  to  Pindar’s  height  attempts  to  rise, 

Like  Icarus,  with  waxen  pinions  tries 

His  pathless  way,  and  from  the  venturous  theme 

Falling  shall  leave  to  azure  seas  his  name. 

*  The  emperor  had  been  in  Gaul,  where  his  presence  put  a 
slop  to  the  progress  of  the  Sicambri,  and  supported  the  con¬ 
quests  of  Tiberius  and  Drusus  over  the  Rhseti  and  Vindelici. 
He  was  expected  with  much  impatience  at  Rome,  where  a 
magnificent  triumph  was  preparing  for  him.  The  return  of  this 
prince  after  a  campaign  so  glorious  gave  occasion  to  our  poet  to 
compose  four  odes,  in  which  we  see  that  the  maturity  of  an  ad¬ 
vanced  age  had  not  lessened  the  fire  of  his  earliest  youth.  We  are 
indebted  for  the  first  two  to  lulus  Antonius,  who  had  engaged 
him  to  write  them  ;  and  Augustus  was  so  charmed  with  them 
that  he  proposed  the  subject  of  the  two  others  himself. — San. 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  II. 


145 


As  when  a  river,  swoln  by  sudden  showers,  5 
O’er  its  known  banks  from  some  steep  mountain 
pours ; 

So  in  profound  immeasurable  song 

The  deep-mouth’d  Pindar,  foaming,  pours  along. 

Well  he  deserves  Apollo’s  laurell’d  crown ; 
Whether  new  words  he  rolls  enraptured  down  10 
Impetuous  through  the  dithyrambic  strains, 

Free  from  all  laws  but  what  himself  ordains: 

Whether  in  lofty  tone  sublime  he  sings 
The  immortal  gods,  or  god-descended  kings, 

With  death  deserved  who  smote  the  centaurs  dire,  15 
And  quench’d  the  fierce  Chimera’s  breath  of  fire  ; 

Or  whom  th’  Olympic  palm,  celestial  prize  ! 
Victorious  crowns,  and  raises  to  the  skies, 

Wrestler  or  steed — with  honours,  that  outlive 
The  mortal  fame  which  thousand  statues  give  :  20 

Or  mourns  some  hapless  youth  in  plaintive  lay, 
From  his  fond,  weeping  bride,  ah  !  torn  away  ; 

His  manners  pure,  his  courage,  and  his  name, 
Snatch’d  from  the  grave,  he  vindicates  to  fame. 

11  This  character  of  Pindar  particularly  regards  his  dithyram- 
bics ;  and  the  judgment  of  Horace  is  tfie  judgment  of  all  an¬ 
tiquity.  Plato,  whom  we  can  hardly  suspect  of  flattering  the 
poets,  acknowledges  in  Pindar  something  above  mortal ;  and 
Alexander  had  so  great  respect  for  his  memory,  that  when  he 
took  the  city  of  Thebes  he  ordered  the  house  in  which  the  poet 
had  lived  to  be  preserved,  and  saved  all  who  remained  of  his 
family  from  the  general  massacre. — San. 

19  When  Pytheas  had  conquered  in  the  Nemsean  games,  his 
friends  desired  Pindar  to  write  an  ode  on  his  victory.  The  poet 
demanding  three  minae,  (somewhat  about  ten  pounds,)  they  told 
him  they  could  erect  a  statue  of  brass  at  that  price.  Sometime 
afterward  they  acknowledged  their  fault,  and  gave  him  what  he 
asked,  on  which  he  began  his  ode  in  this  manner  * — 

It  is  not  mine,  with  forming  hand 
To  make  a  lifeless  image  stand 
For  ever  on  its  base  ; 

But  fly,  my  verses,  and  proclaim 
To  distant  realms,  with  deathless  fame 
That  Pytheas  conquer’d  in  the  rapid  race. 

Hor.  Vol.  I.— N 


146 


HORACE. 


Thus,  when  the  Theban  swan  attempts  the  skies, 
A  nobler  gale  of  rapture  bids  him  rise  ;  26 

But  like  a  bee,  which  through  the  breezy  groves 
With  feeble  wing  and  idle  murmurs  roves, 

Sits  on  the  bloom,  and  with  unceasing  toil 
From  thyme  sweet-breathing  culls  his  flowery  spoil ; 
So  I,  weak  bard  !  round  Tibur’s  lucid  spring,  31 
Of  humbler  strain  laborious  verses  sing. 

’Tis  thine  with  deeper  hand  to  strike  the  lyre 
When  CcEsar  shall  his  raptured  bard  inspire  ; 

And  crown’d  with  laurel,  well-eam’d  meed  of  war, 
Drag  the  fierce  Gaul  at  his  triumphal  car.  36 

Than  whom  the  gods  ne’er  gave,  or  bounteous  fate, 
To  humankind  a  gift  more  good  or  great, 

Nor  from  the  treasures  shall  again  unfold, 

Though  time  roll  backward  to  his  ancient  gold.  40 
Be  thine  the  festal  days,  the  city’s  joys, 

The  forum  silenced  from  litigious  noise  ; 

The  public  games  for  Caesar  safe  restored, 

A  blessing  oft  with  pious  vows  implored. 

Then,  if  my  voice  can  reach  the  glorious  theme, 
Then  will  I  sing,  amid  the  loud  acclaim —  46 

“  Hail,  brightest  sun  !  in  Rome’s  fair  annals  shine  ; 
Caesar  returns — eternal  praise  be  thine.” 

As  the  procession  awful  moves  along, 

Let  shouts  of  triumph  fill  our  joyful  song;  50 

Repeated  shouts  of  triumph  Rome  shall  raise, 

And  to  the  bounteous  gods  our  altars  blaze. 

Of  thy  fair  herds  twice  ten  shall  grateful  bleed, 
While  I,  with  pious  care,  one  steerling  feed : 
Wean’d  from  the  dam,  o’er  pastures  large  he  roves, 
And  for  my  vows  his  rising  youth  he  proves  :  56 

His  horns  like  Luna’s  bending  fires  appear, 

When  the  third  night  she  rises  to  her  sphere  ; 

And,  yellow  all  the  rest,  one  spot  there  glows 
Full  in  his  front,  and  bright  as  winter  snows.  60 

44  During  the  absence  of  Augustus  vows  were  made  to  the 
gods  for  his  return,  which  the  new  consuls  repeated  in  741,  by 
decree  of  the  senate,  as  appears  by  medals  and  inscriptions. — 
1'orr. 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  III. 


147 


ODE  HI.— TO  MELPOMENE.* 

Horace  attributes  his  place  and  rank  among  poets  to  the  favour 

of  Melpomene. 

He,  on  whose  natal  hour  the  queen 

Of  verse  hath  smiled,  shall  never  grace 
The  Isthmian  gauntlet,  or  be  seen 
First  in  the  famed  Olympic  race  : 

He  shall  not  after  toils  of  war,  5 

And  taming  haughty  monarchs’  pride, 

With  laurell’d  brows  conspicuous  far, 

To  Jove’s  Tarpeian  temple  ride  : 

But  him,  the  streams  which  warbling  flow 
Rich  Tibur’s  fertile  vales  along,  10 

And  shady  groves,  his  haunts,  shall  know 
The  master  of  th’  JEolian  song. 

The  sons  of  Rome,  majestic  Rome  ! 

Have  placed  me  in  the  poet’s  quire, 

And  envy,  now  or  dead  or  dumb,  15 

Forbears  to  blame  what  they  admire. 

Goddess  of  the  sweet-sounding  lute, 

Which  thy  harmonious  touch  obeys, 

Who  canst  the  finny  race,  though  mute, 

To  cygnet’s  dying  accents  raise,  20 

Thy  gift  it  is,  that  all,  with  ease, 

Me  prince  of  Roman  lyrics  own  ; 

That  while  I  live  my  numbers  please, 

If  pleasing,  is  thy  gift  alone. 

*  They  who  have  taste  for  whatever  is  delicate  and  natural 
in  poetry  ;  for  whatever  is  noble  and  elegant  in  style,  or  flowing 
and  harmonious  in  numbers,  must  acknowledge  that  there  is  not 
anything  in  Greek  or  Latin  more  finished  and  complete  than 
this  poem.  Such  is  the  judgment  of  all  the  commentators  ;  but 
Scaliger  is  so  charmed  with  it,  that  he  assures  us  he  would 
rather  have  been  author  of  it  than  be  king  of  Arragon. 

21  The  praises  which  Horace  gives  himself  in  this  ode  are 
happily  tempered  by  his  acknowledgments  that  all  his  poetical 
abilities  are  a  present  from  the  muses.  We  should  allow  some¬ 
thing  for  this  instance  of  modesty,  because  it  is  not  usually  a 
favourite  virtue  among  poets. — San. 


148 


HORACE. 


ODE  IV.—' THE  PRAISES  OF  DRUSUS.* 

Horace  celebrates  the  victory  of  Drusus  over  the  Vindelici. 

As  the  majestic  bird  of  towering  kind, 

Who  bears  the  thunder  through  th’  ethereal  space, 
(To  whom  the  monarch  of  the  gods  assign’d 
Dominion  o’er  the  vagrant  feather’d  race, 

His  faith  approved,  when  to  the  distant  skies  5 
From  Ida’s  top  he  bore  the  Phrygian  prize,) 

Sprung  from  his  nest,  by  sprightly  youth  inspired, 
Fledged,  and  exulting  in  his  native  might, 

Novice  to  toils,  but  as  the  clouds  retired, 

And  gentler  gales  provoked  a  bolder  flight,  10 
On  sailing  wings  through  yielding  air  explored 
Unwonted  paths,  and  panted  while  he  soar’d : 

Anon  to  ravage  in  the  fleecy  fold 

The  glowing  ardour  of  his  youthful  heart 
Pour’d  the  beak’d  foe  ;  now  more  maturely  bold  15 
With  talons  fierce  precipitate  to  dart 
On  dragons  fell,  reluctant  in  the  fray ; 

Such  is  his  thirst  for  battle  and  for  prey : 

*  This  poem  is  so  perfectly  finished,  that  it  has  disarmed 
even  the  terrible  criticism  of  Scaliger,  and  obliged  him  to  con¬ 
fess  that  Horace  excels  himself  and  all  Greece  in  this  whole 
ode.  The  first  part  of  it  is  of  a  strain  almost  beyond  Pindaric  ; 
the  middle  is  elevated  by  a  noble,  just,  pathetic  morality ;  and 
the  conclusion  is  wrought  with  a  masculine  and  vehement  elo¬ 
quence. 

1  Pliny  tells  us  that  the  fiction  of  the  eagle’s  carrying  Jupi¬ 
ter’s  thunder  was  founded  on  an  experience  that  this  is  the  only 
bird  never  destroyed  by  lightning.  But  this  experience  appears 
very  doubtful,  and  the  title  seems  rather  to  be  given  it  for  its  re¬ 
markable  strength  and  swiftness.  It  was  employed  to  carry 
Ganymede  to  heaven,  whom  the  gods,  as  Xenophon  informs  us, 
thought  worthy  of  immortality  for  an  understanding  and  wisdom 
far  above  his  age. 

17  Pliny  describes  an  eagle’s  combat  with  a  dragon  as  most 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  IV. 


149 


Or  as  a  lion  through  the  forest  stalks, 

Wean’d  by  his  tawny  dam  from  milky  food  ;  20 

A  goat  descries  him  from  her  flowery  walks, 

First  doom’d  to  stain  his  jmuthful  jaws  with  blood : 
So  Drusus  look’d  tremendous  to  his  foes, 

Beneath  the  frozen  height  of  Alpine  snows. 

The  Rhaetian  bands  beheld  him  such  in  war,  25 
Those  daring  bands,  who  with  triumphant  joy 
Were  wont  to  spread  their  baneful  terrors  far, 
Tamed  by  the  conduct  of  the  martial  boy, 

Felt  what  true  courage  could  achieve  when  led 
By  bright  example,  and  by  virtue  bred ;  30 

Felt  how  Augustus  with  paternal  mind 
Fired  the  young  Neros  to  heroic  deeds — 

The  brave  and  good  are  copies  of  their  kind : 

In  steers  laborious,  and  in  generous  steeds 
We  trace  their  sires;  nor  can  the  bird  of  Jove  35 
Intrepid,  fierce,  beget  th’  unwarlike  dove. 

Yet  sage  instructions  to  refine  the  soul, 

And  raise  the  genius,  wondrous  aid  impart, 
Conveying,  inward  as  they  purely  roll, 

Strength  to  the  mind,  and  vigour  to  the  heart :  40 
WThen  morals  fail,  the  stains  of  vice  disgrace 
The  fairest  honours,  and  the  noblest  race. 

How  much  the  grandeur  of  thy  rising  state 
Owes  to  the  Neros,  Rome  imperial,  say ; 

doubtful  and  dangerous.  The  dragon,  by  a  malignant  avidity, 
searches  for  an  eagle’s  eggs,  who  therefore  seizes  him,  wher¬ 
ever  they  meet.  But  the  dragon  rolling  himself  round  his 
wings,  they  frequently  fall  down  together  to  the  earth. 

31  Tiberius  Nero  died  in  the  same  year  in  which  he  had 
yielded  his  wife  Livia  to  Augustus,  and  by  his  last  will  named 
that  prince,  not  only  a  guardian  of  Tiberius,  who  was  then  four 
years  old,  but  of  Drusus,  who  was  born  three  months  after  his 
mother  was  married  to  Augustus.  In  this  manner  the  emperor 
was  a  second  father  to  both  the  Neros. 

N  2 


150 


HORACE. 


Witness  Metaunis,  and  the  dismal  fate  45 

Of  vanquish’d  Asdrubal,  and  that  glad  day 
Which  first  auspicious,  as  the  darkness  fled, 

O’er  Latium’s  face  a  tide  of  glory  shed. 

Resistless  in  his  rage,  before  that  day 
The  Carthaginian  with  vindictive  ire  50 

Through  our  fair  cities  urged  his  cruel  way, 

As  through  the  pitchy  pines  destructive  fire 
Devours  its  course ;  or  as  when  Eurus  raves, 

And  howling  rides  the  mad  Sicilian  waves. 

The  Roman  youth,  improving  by  their  toils,  55 
WTith  better  fate  now  wield  the  vengeful  sword, 
And  see  those  temples,  which  were  once  the  spoils 
Of  Tyrian  rapine,  to  their  gods  restored ; 

45  Claudius  Nero  being  encamped  in  Lucania  in  view  of  Han¬ 
nibal,  went  with  six  thousand  foot  and  a  thousand  horse  to  join 
his  colleague  Salinator,  and  oppose  the  passage  of  Asdrubal,  who 
was  bringing  a  considerable  reinforcement  to  his  brother.  This 
diligence  preserved  Italy,  for  Asdrubal  was  defeated  near  the 
river  Metaurus,  and  Nero,  returning  to  his  camp  before  the  Car¬ 
thaginians  perceived  he  had  been  absent,  ordered  Asdrubal’s  head 
to  be  thrown  into  Hannibal’s  camp,  who  cried  out,  “  I  acknow¬ 
ledge  the  fate  of  Carthage.” 

Horace  has  chosen  this  action,  not  only  because  it  was  one  of 
the  most  important  performed  by  the  family,  but  because  Drusus 
and  Tiberius  were  descended  from  both  these  consuls.  Va¬ 
lerius  Maximus,  speaking  of  the  quarrel  between  these  two 
great  men  during  their  censorship,  cries  out,  with  reason,  “If 
any  god  had  told  them  that  their  blood,  after  having  flowed 
through  the  veins  of  so  many  illustrious  persons,  should 
unite  to  form  our  prince,  Tiberius,  the  safety  of  the  state,  they 
would  have  renounced  their  hatred,  and  joined  in  the  strictest 
amity,  that  they  might  leave  to  their  common  descendant  their 
country  to  be  preserved,  which  they  themselves  had  preserved.” 
— Dac. 

47  This  day  really  dissipated  the  darkness  which  covered 
Italy.  The  Romans  had  been  defeated  in  several  battles,  and 
if  Asdrubal  had  joined  his  brother,  the  fate  of  Rome  had  been 
inevitable.  In  all  authors  the  word  darkness  signifies  misfor¬ 
tune,  ruin,  and  perdition ;  as  the  word  light  is  used  to  express 
happiness,  victory,  and  safety. — Dac. 


BOOK  y. - ODE  IV. 


151 


When  faithless  Hannibal  at  length  express’d 
The  boding  sorrows  of  his  anxious  breast:  60 

“  Like  stags,  of  coward  kind,  the  destined  prey 
Of  rav’ning  wolves,  we  unprovoked  defy 
Those,  whom  to  baffle  is  our  fairest  play, 

The  richest  triumph  we  can  boast,  to  fly. 

For  mark  that  race,  which  to  the  Latian  shore  65 
Their  gods,  their  sons,  their  sires,  intrepid  bore. 

“That  race, long  toss’d  upon  the  Tuscan  waves, 
Are  like  an  oak  upon  the  woody  top 
Of  shaded  Algidus,  imbrown’d  with  leaves, 

Which,  as  keen  axes  its  green  honours  lop,  70 
Through  wounds,  through  losses  no  decay  can  feel, 
Collecting  strength  and  spirit  from  the  steel. 

“Not  Hydra  stronger,  when  dismember’d,  rose 
Against  Alcmena’s  much-enduring  son, 

Grieving  to  find,  from  his  repeated  blows,  75 

The  foe  redoubled,  and  his  toil  begun : 

Nor  Colchis  teem’d,  nor  Echionian  Thebes 
A  feller  monster  from  their  bursting  glebes. 

“  In  ocean  plunge  them,  they  emerge  more  bright ; 

At  arms  oppose  them  in  the  dusty  field,  80 

With  routed  squadrons  they  renew  the  fight ; 

And  force  your  yet  unbroken  troops  to  yield, 

And  battles  wage,  to  be  the  future  boast 
Of  their  proud  consorts  o’er  our  vanquish’d  ho§t. 

“  To  lofty  Carthage  1  no  more  shall  send  85 

Vaunts  of  my  deeds,  and  heralds  of  my  fame ; 

61  Thiseulogium  of  the  Romans  is  in  itself  magnificent,  but 
it  becomes  infinitely  more  valuable  in  the  mouth  of  Hannibal. 
— San. 

65  The  Trojans  collected  strength  from  their  misfortunes, 
and  the  poet  shows,  by  this  instance  of  Hannibal,  that  the  Ro 
mans  had  not  degenerated  from  their  ancestors. 

85  After  the  battle  of  Cannae,  Hannibal  sent  his  brother  Mago 


152 


HORACE. 


My  boundless  hopes,  alas !  are  at  an  end, 

With  all  the  flowing  fortune  of  our  name  : 

Those  boundless  hopes,  that  flowing  fortune,  all 
Are  dash’d,  and  buried  in  my  brother’s  fall.  90 

The  Claudian  race,  those  favourites  of  the  skies, 

No  toil  shall  damp,  no  fortitude  withstand ; 
Superior  they  to  difficulties  rise, 

Whom  Jove  protects  with  an  indulgent  hand; 
Whom  cautious  cares,  preventing  wiles  afar,  95 
Guide  through  the  perils  of  tumultuous  war. 

to  Carthage  with  the  news  of  his  victory.  He  talked  in  very 
pompous  terms  of  Hannibal’s  success,  and  ordered  all  the  rings 
which  had  been  taken  from  the  Roman  knights  to  be  thrown  be¬ 
fore  the  gate  of  the  senate-house,  that  the  senators  might  com¬ 
pute  from  thence  the  number  of  the  slain.  To  this  story  the 
poet  alludes. — Lamb. 

91  By  the  first  actions  of  Drusus,  the  poet  judges  that  there 
was  not  any  success  which  the  Romans  might  not  promise 
themselves  from  the  valour  of  this  young  prince.  He  founds 
his  prediction  on  the  protection  of  the  gods,  who  were  the  pe¬ 
culiar  guardians  of  his  house,  and  on  the  virtues  which  Drusus 
had  shown  in  such  dangerous  occasions.  Thus  he  gives  us  a 
noble  precept  of  morality,  that  in  affairs,  in  which  we  are  best 
assured  of  the  assistance  of  the  gods,  we  ought  not  to  neglect 
whatever  depends  on  our  own  labours  to  procure  success. — San. 


ODE  V.— TO  AUGUSTUS.* 

Horace  implores  Augustus  to  return  into  the  city  as  soon  as 

possible. 

Propitious  to  the  sons  of  earth 
(Best  guardian  of  the  Roman  state, 

*  We  cannot  imagine  anything  more  tender  than  the  senti¬ 
ments  of  this  ode,  in  which  the  poet  not  only  shows  the  love 
and  veneration  of  the  Romans  for  Augustus,  and  with  what  im- 

Eatience  they  wish  for  his  return,  but  tells  him  why  they  adore 
im,  and  by  this  means  draws  a  beautiful  picture  of  that  happi¬ 
ness  which  they  enjoyed  under  his  reign. 


BOOK  IV.  —ODE  V. 


153 


The  heavenly  powers  beheld  thy  birth, 

And  form’d  thee  glorious,  good,  and  great ; 
Rome  and  her  holy  fathers  cry,  thy  stay  5 

Was  promised  short,  ah !  wherefore  this  delay  1 

Come,  then,  auspicious  prince,  and  bring 
To  thy  long  gloomy  country  light, 

For  in  thy  countenance  the  spring 

Shines  forth  to  cheer  thy  people’s  sight ;  10 

Then  hasten  thy  return,  for,  thou  away, 

Nor  lustre  has  the  sun,  nor  joy  the  day. 

As  a  fond  mother  views  with  fear 
The  terrors  of  the  rolling  main, 

While  envious  winds,  beyond  his  year,  15 
From  his  loved  home  her  son  detain ; 

To  the  good  gods  with  fervent  prayer  she  cries, 

And  catches  every  omen  as  it  flies ; 

Then  anxious  listens  to  the  roar 

Of  winds,  that  loudly  sweep  the  sky ;  20 

Nor,  fearful,  from  the  winding  shore 
Can  ever  turn  her  longing  eye : 

Smit  with  as  faithful,  and  as  fond  desires, 

Impatient  Rome  her  absent  lord  requires. 

Safe  by  thy  cares  her  oxen  graze,  25 

And  yellow  Ceres  clothes  her  fields : 

The  sailor  ploughs  the  peaceful  seas, 

And  earth  her  rich  abundance  yields ; 

25  The  reasons  of  that  love  which  the  Romans  had  for  Au¬ 
gustus,  were  the  peace  and  happiness  of  his  reign ;  and  how¬ 
ever  beautiful  the  picture  is,  we  cannot  say  there  is  any  flattery 
in  it  ;  at  least,  historians  speak  in  the  same  language.  In  his 
twentieth  year,  says  Velleius,  all  his  wars,  both  civil  and  foreign, 
were  ended.  Peace  returned,  the  fury  of  arms  ceased,  the  laws 
resumed  their  power,  justice  recovered  its  authority,  the  senate 
its  majesty.  The  ancient  form  of  the  republic  was  restored,  the 
fields  began  to  be  cultivated,  religion  to  be  revered,  and  every 
man’s  property  secured. 


154 


HORACE. 


While  nobly  conscious  of  unsullied  fame, 

Fair  honour  dreads  th’  imputed  sense  of  blame.  30 

By  thee  our  wedded  dames  are  pure 
From  foul  adultery’s  embrace  ; 

The  conscious  father  views  secure 
His  own  resemblance  in  his  race  : 

Thy  chaste  example  quells  the  spotted  deed,  35 
And  to  the  guilt  thy  punishments  succeed. 

Who  shall  the  faithless  Parthian  dread, 

The  freezing  armies  of  the  north, 

The  enormous  youth,  to  battle  bred, 

Whom  horrid  Germany  brings  forth!  40 
Who  shall  regard  the  war  of  cruel  Spain, 

If  Caesar  live  secure,  if  Caesar  reign! 

Safe  in  his  vineyard  toils  the  hind, 

Weds  to  the  widow’d  elm  his  vine, 

Till  the  sun  sets  his  hill  behind ;  45 

Then  hastens  joyful  to  his  wine, 

And  in  his  gayer  hours  of  mirth  implores 
Thy  godhead  to  protect  and  bless  his  stores. 

To  thee  he  chants  the  sacred  song, 

To  thee  the  rich  libation  pours,  50 

Thee,  placed  his  household  gods  among, 

With  solemn,  daily  prayer  adores  ; 

So  Castor  and  great  Hercules  of  old 

Were  with  her  gods  by  grateful  Greece  enroll’d. 

Gracious  and  good,  beneath  thy  reign  55 

May  Rome  her  happy  hours  employ, 

37  Augustus  had  either  subdued  or  reduced  to  peace  the 
whole  east,  north,  and  west.  The  east  is  marked  by  Parthia  ; 
the  north  by  Scythia  and  Germany ;  and  the  west  by  Spain. 
Dion  reckons  the  reduction  of  Spain,  by  sending  colonies 
thither,  to  be  one  of  the  happiest  successes  of  Augustus  in  this 
expedition 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  VII. 


155 


And  grateful  hail  thy  just  domain 
With  pious  hymns  and  festal  joy  ’ 

Thus,  with  the  rising  sun  we  sober  pray, 

Thus,  in  our  wine,  beneath  his  setting  ray.  60 

[The  reader  will  find  ode  vi.  in  the  first  concert,  and  first  chorus 
of  youths  and  virgins,  in  the  Secular  Poem,  at  the  end  of  the 
odes.] 


ODE  VII.— TO  TORQUATUS. 

Horace  exhorts  Torquatus  to  live  in  a  cheerful  and  joyous 
manner,  by  representing  to  him  the  certainty  of  death. 

The  snow  dissolves,  the  field  its  verdure  spreads, 
The  trees  high  wave  in  air  their  leafy  heads  ; 

Earth  feels  the  change  ;  the  rivers  calm  subside, 

And  smooth  along  their  banks  decreasing  glide  ; 

The  elder  grace,  with  her  fair  sister-train,  5 

In  naked  beauty  dances  o’er  the  plain. 

The  circling  hours,  that  swiftly  wing  their  way, 

And  in  their  flight  consume  the  smiling  day ; 

Those  circling  hours,  and  all  the  various  year, 
Convince  us  nothing  is  immortal  here.  10 

In  vernal  gales  cold  winter  melts  away ; 

Soon  wastes  the  spring  in  summer’s  burning  ray ; 
Yet  summer  dies  in  autumn’s  fruitful  reign, 

And  slow-paced  winter  soon  returns  again. 

The  moon  renews  her  orb  with  growing  light ;  15 

But  when  we  sink  into  the  depths  of  night, 

1  Horace  does  not  amuse  himself  in  describing  the  spring. 
His  aim  is  to  convince  Torquatus  that  everything  around  us  puts 
us  in  mind  of  death.  He  sets  before  him  the  various  changes 
that  happen  in  nature,  and  the  vicissitudes  of  the  seasons,  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  precepts  of  a  philosophy  which  pretends  that  a 
remembrance  of  death  is  a  most  pressing  motive  to  our  pursuit 
of  pleasure.  This  doctrine  might  be  well  received  if  it  were 
confined  within  its  proper  bounds. — Dac. 

16  The  seasons  return  and  are  renewed,  but  man  dies  once, 
and  for  ever.  There  is  a  beautiful  passage  in  the  third  Idyllium 


156 


HORACE. 


Where  all  the  good,  the  rich,  the  brave  are  laid, 
Our  best  remains  are  ashes  and  a  shade. 

Who  knows,  that  heaven,  with  ever-bounteous 
power, 

Shall  add  to-morrow  to  the  present  hour  1  20 

The  wealth  you  give  to  pleasure  and  delight, 

Far  from  thy  ravening  heir  shall  speed  its  flight : 
But  soon  as  Minos,  throned  in  awful  state, 

Shall  o’er  thee  speak  the  solemn  words  of  fate, 

Nor  virtue,  birth,  nor  eloquence  divine,  25 

Shall  bid  the  grave  its  destined  prey  resign : 

Nor  chaste  Diana  from  infernal  night 

Could  bring  her  modest  favourite  back  to  light ; 

And  hell-descending  Theseus  strove  in  vain 
To  break  his  amorous  friend’s  Lethean  chain.  30 

of  Moschus  on  the  death  of  Bion,  which  perhaps  our  poet  had 
in  view  : — 

Our  plants  and  trees  revive  ;  the  breathing  rose, 

With  annual  youth,  in  pride  of  beauty  glows  ; 

But  when  the  masterpiece  of  nature  dies, 

Man,  who  alone  is  great,  and  brave,  and  wise, 

No  more  he  rises  to  the  realms  of  light, 

But  sleeps  unwaking  in  eternal  night. 

19  This  is  a  second  motive  to  persuade  Torquatus  not  to 
neglect  any  opportunity  of  pleasure.  It  is  even  more  pressing 
than  the  first ;  for  to  represent  to  a  man  that  he  shall  certainly 
die  hereafter,  is  not  so  forcible  a  manner  of  forbidding  him  enjoy 
the  present  hour,  as  if  he  told  him  perhaps  he  may  die  to-mor¬ 
row.  To  defer  our  pleasures  is  probably  to  lose  them  for  ever, 
and  death  is  a  law  whiqh  nature  publishes  through  all  her 
works. — Dac. 


ODE  VIII.— TO  CENSORINUS.* 

The  design  of  this  ode  is  to  show  that  the  gift  of  immortality  is 
in  the  power  of  the  poets. 

With  liberal  heart  to  every  friend 
A  bowl  or  caldron  would  I  send  ; 

*  This  ode  was  written  either  in  the  time  of  the  Saturnalia, 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  VIII. 


157 


Or  tripods,  which  the  Grecians  gave, 

As  rich  rewards  to  heroes  brave  ; 

Nor  should  the  meanest  gift  be  thine,  5 

If  the  rich  works  of  art  were  mine, 

By  Scopas,  or  Parrhasius  wrought, 

With  animating  skill  who  taught 
The  shapeless  stone  with  life  to  glow, 

Or  bade  the  breathing  colours  flow,  10 

To  imitate  in  every  line, 

The  form  or  human  or  divine. 

But  1  nor  boast  the  curious  store, 

And  you  nor  want,  nor  wish  for  more  ; 

’Tis  yours  the  joys  of  verse  to  know,  15 

Such  joys  as  Horace  can  bestow, 

While  I  can  vouch  my  present’s  worth, 

And  call  its  every  virtue  forth. 

Nor  columns,  which  the  public  raise, 
Engraved  with  monumental  praise,  20 

By  which  the  breath  of  life  returns 
To  heroes,  sleeping  in  their  urns  : 

Nor  Hannibal,  when  swift  he  fled, 

His  threats  retorted  on  his  head, 

Nor  impious  Carthage  wrapt  in  flame,  25 
From  whence  great  Scipio  gain’d  a  name, 

when  it  was  customary  among  the  Romans  to  send  presents  to 
their  friends,  or  in  return  for  something  valuable,  which  Horace 
had  received  from  Censorinus,  and  for  which  he  sends  him  a 
copy  of  verses.  Such  has  been  the  poet’s  manner  in  all  ages  of 
paying  his  debts  of  gratitude  to  his  friends. 

24  The  threats  of  Hannibal,  driven  back  from  Italy,  when 
he  was  obliged  to  fly  to  the  defence  of  Carthage. — Bond. 

26  Scipio  was  the  first  of  the  Romans  who  was  honoured 
with  the  name  of  a  conquered  country.  Sempronius  Gracchus 
must  be  an  unsuspected  witness  to  his  character.  He  says  that 
he  subdued  Africa ;  defeated  in  Spain  four  of  the  most  famous 
generals  ;  took  Syphax  prisoner  in  Numidia  ;  vanquished  Han¬ 
nibal  ;  rendered  Carthage  tributary  to  Rome ;  and  obliged  An- 
tiochus  to  retire  on  the  other  side  of  Mount  Taurus. —  Torr. 

Ennius,  who  celebrated  the  actions  of  this  hero,  was  born  in 
Calabria,  from  whence  this  expression,  “  The  Calabrian  muses." 

Hor.  Vol.  I. — O 


158 


HORACE. 


Such  glories  round  him  could  diffuse 
As  the  Calabrian  poet’s  muse  ; 

And  should  the  bard  his  aid  deny, 

Thy  worth  shall  unrewarded  die.  30 

Had  envious  silence  left  unsung 
The  child  from  Mars  and  Ilia  sprung, 

How  had  we  known  the  hero’s  fame, 

From  whom  the  Roman  empire  camel 

The  poet’s  favour,  voice,  and  lays,  35 

Could  Abacus  from  darkness  raise, 

Snatch’d  from  the  Stygian  gulfs  of  hell, 

Among  the  blissful  isles  to  dwell. 

The  muse  forbids  the  brave  to  die, 

The  muse  enthrones  him  in  the  sky ;  40 

Alcides,  thus,  in  heaven  is  placed, 

And  shares  with  Jove  the  immortal  feast; 

Thus  the  twin-stars  have  power  to  save 
The  shatter’d  vessel  from  the  wave, 

And  vine-crown’d  Bacchus  with  success  45 
His  jovial  votaries  can  bless. 

ODE  IX.— TO  LOLLIUS.* 

The  poet  endeavours,  by  his  verses,  to  rescue  Lollius’  name 

from  oblivion. 

While  with  the  Grecian  bards  I  vie, 

And  raptured  tune  the  social  string, 

Think  not  the  song  shall  ever  die, 

Which  with  no  vulgar  art  I  sing, 

We  have  some  fragments  of  his  works,  which  show  a  strong 
and  masculine  spirit,  but  rude  and  uncultivated. 

*  Horace  in  this  ode  celebrates  the  character  of  a  hero ;  a 
man  of  integrity,  of  disinterested  honesty,  and  a  lover  of  his 
country ;  yet  the  subject  of  all  these  praises  was  a  coward,  a 
villain,  a  miser,  and  a  traitor.  Lollius  had  an  appearance  of 
virtue  ;  nor  should  we  wonder  that  he  had  imposed  on  Horace, 
since  even  Augustus  was  long  deceived  by  him.  They  who  are 
acquainted  with  courts  are  convinced  that  such  characters  are 
not  uncommon. —  Torr.  San 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  IX. 


159 


Though  bom  where  Aufid  rolls  his  sounding  stream, 

In  lands  far  distant  from  poetic  fame.  6 

( 

What  though  the  muse  her  Homer  thrones 
High  above  all  th’  immortal  choir, 

Nor  Pindar’s  rapture  she  disowns, 

Nor  hides  the  plaintive  Caean  lyre  ?  10 

Alcaeus  strikes  the  tyrant’s  soul  with  dread, 

Nor  yet  is  grave  Stesichorus  unread. 

Whatever  old  Anaceron  sung, 

However  tender  was  the  lay, 

In  spite  of  time  is  ever  young,  15 

Nor  Sappho’s  amorous  flames  decay; 

Her  living  songs  preserve  their  charming  art, 

Her  love  still  breathes  the  passions  of  her  heart. 

Helen  was  not  the  only  fair 

By  an  unhappy  passion  fired,  20 

Who  the  lewd  ringlets  of  the  hair 
Of  an  adulterous  beau  admired ; 

Court  arts,  gold  lace,  and  equipage  have  charms 
To  tempt  weak  woman  to  a  stranger’s  arms. 

Nor  first  from  Teucer’s  vengeful  bow  25 

The  feather’d  death  unerring  flew, 

Nor  was  the  Greek  the  single  foe 
Whose  rage  ill-fated  Ilion  knew  ; 

5  Our  poet’s  country  was  formerly  wild  and  uncultivated, 
where  neither  poet  nor  poetry  had  ever  appeared.  Horace 
therefore  mentions  it  as  matter  of  peculiar  honour  to  his  works, 
that  they  should  live  for  ever,  although  produced  in  a  country 
unknown  to  Apollo  and  the  muses. — Dae. 

9  The  great  idea  which  Horace  had  of  Pindar  did  not  hinder 
him  from  allowing  the  superiority  of  Homer ;  and  on  the  con¬ 
trary,  the  g;reat  veneration  which  he  had  for  Homer  did  not 
prejudice  him  against  the  real  merit  of  Pindar. — Dac. 

13  This  is  whole  Anacreon  at  one  stroke.  No  poet  better 
knew  how  to  sport  and  trifle  with  a  natural  elegance  and  deli¬ 
cacy.  His  poems  are  instant  productions  of  imagination  rather 


160 


HORACE. 


Greece  had  with  heroes  fill’d  th’  embattled  plain, 
Worthy  the  muse  in  her  sublimest  strain.  30 

Nor  Hector  first  transported  heard 
With  fierce  delight  the  war’s  alarms, 

Nor  brave  Deiphobus  appear’d 
Amid  the  tented  field  in  arms, 

With  glorious  ardour  prodigal  of  life,  35 

To  guard  a  darling  son  and  faithful  wife. 

Before  great  Agamemnon  reign’d, 

Reign’d  kings  as  great  as  he,  and  brave, 

Whose  huge  ambition’s  now  contain’d 
In  the  small  compass  of  a  grave  :  40 

In  endless  night  they  sleep,  unwept,  unknown, 

No  bard  had  they  to  make  all  time  their  own. 

In  earth  if  it  forgotten  lies, 

What  is  the  valour  of  the  brave  ? 

What  difference,  when  the  coward  dies,  45 
And  sinks  in  silence  to  his  grave  ? 

Nor,  Lollius,  will  I  not  thy  praise  proclaim, 

But  from  oblivion  vindicate  thy  fame. 

Nor  shall  its  livid  power  conceal 
Thy  toils — how  glorious  to  the  state !  50 

How  constant  to  the  public  weal 

Through  all  the  doubtful  turns  of  fate  ! 

Thy  steady  soul,  by  long  experience  found 
Erect,  alike  when  fortune  smiled  or  frown’d. 

than  of  reflection,  and  we  can  only  wish  that  he  had  more  re¬ 
spect  to  modesty  in  the  pictures  which  he  has  drawn  of  his 
pleasures. — San . 

47  Lollius  commanded  the  Roman  legions  in  Germany, 
Thrace,  and  Galatia.  In  the  German  war  he  lost  the  eagle  of 
the  fifth  legion,  and  his  defeat  was  called  the  Lollian  slaughter ; 
but  he  soon  revenged  the  affront,  and  obliged  the  Germans  to 
repass  the  Rhine,  to  demand  a  peace,  and  deliver  hostages. 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  X. 


161 


Villains,  in  public  rapine  bold,  55 

Lollius,  the  just  avenger,  dread, 

Who  never  by  the  charms  of  gold, 

Shining  seducer !  was  misled; 

Beyond  thy  year  such  virtue  shall  extend, 

And  death  alone  thy  consulate  shall  end.  60 

Perpetual  magistrate  is  he, 

Who  keeps  strict  justice  full  in  sight ; 

With  scorn  rejects  th’  offender’s  fee, 

Nor  weighs  convenience  against  right; 

Who  bids  the  crowd  at  awful  distance  gaze,  65 
And  virtue’s  arms  victoriously  displays. 

Not  he,  of  wealth  immense  possess’d 
Tasteless  who  piles  his  massy  gold, 

Among  the  number  of  the  bless’d 
Should  have  his  glorious  name  enroll’d  ;  70 

He  better  claims  the  glorious  name  who  knows 
With  wisdom  to  enjoy  what  heaven  bestows  : 

Who  knows  the  wrongs  of  want  to  bear, 

Even  in  its  lowest,  last  extreme  ; 

Yet  can  with  conscious  virtue  fear,  75 

Far  worse  than  death,  a  deed  of  shame ; 
Undaunted,  for  his  country  or  his  friend 
To  sacrifice  his  life — oh  glorious  end  ! 

ODE  X.— TO  LIGURINUS.* 

The  poet  advises  Ligurinus  not  to  be  too  fond  of  his  own 

person. 

Oh  cruel  still,  and  vain  of  beauty’s  charms, 

When  wintry  age  thy  insolence  disarms  ; 

*  To  be  vain  of  his  personal  beauty  is  such  folly  in  a  man,  as 
even  custom  can  never  reconcile  to  us.  Ligurinus  was  young, 
well  made,  and  handsome  ;  yet  he  ruined  all  these  advantages 
of  nature  by  a  ridiculous  insolence,  which  the  poet  attempting 
to  correct,  represents  an  old,  in  opposition  to  the  young,  Ligu¬ 
rinus.  He  shows  him  that  all  this  beauty,  of  which  he  is  now 
so  vain,  shall  soon  fall  a  prey  to  time  and  age.— San. 

O  2 


162 


HORACE. 


When  fall  those  locks,  that  on  thy  shoulders  play, 
And  youth’s  gay  roses  on  thy  cheeks  decay  ; 

When  that  smooth  face  shall  manhood’s  roughness 
wear,  5 

And  in  your  glass  another  form  appear, 

Ah  !  why,  you’ll  say,  do  I  now  vainly  burn, 

Or  with  my  wishes,  not  my  youth  return  1 

ODE  XI. — TO  PHYLLIS.* 

The  poet  invites  Phyllis  to  an  entertainment  on  Maecenas’s 

birthday. 

Phyllis,  I  have  a  cask  of  wine, 

Mellow’d  by  summers  more  than  nine  ; 

With  living  wreaths  to  crown  our  heads 
The  parsley’s  vivid  verdure  spreads  ; 

To  bind  your  hair  the  ivy  twines  ;  5 

With  plate  my  cheerful  sideboard  shines  : 

WTith  vervain  chaste  an  altar  bound, 

Now  thirsts  for  blood  ;  the  victim’s  crown’d. 

Ali  hands  employed  with  busy  haste 
My  bctys  and  girls  prepare  our  feast ;  10 

Trembling  the  pointed  flames  arise, 

The  smoke  rolls  upward  to  the  skies  ; 

But  why  this  busy  festal  care  1 
This  invitation  to  my  fair  1 

*  The  commentators  think  that  Phyllis  to  whom  this  ode  is 
addressed,  was  a  young  slave  whom  Xanthias  afterward  mar¬ 
ried.  The  poet  invites  her  to  celebrate  his  patron’s  birthday 
with  him,  and  endeavours  to  dissuade  her  from  indulging  a  pas¬ 
sion  for  Telephus,  who  was  otherwise  engaged. 

4  The  commentators  find  it  difficult  to  assign  a  reason  why 
parsley,  which  was  an  herb  used  in  funerals,  and  consequently 
of  unlucky  omen,  should  be  employed  in  festivals  and  entertain 
ments  of  pleasure.  The  ancients  believed  that  it  had  a  virtue 
to  expel  the  vapours  of  wine,  and  the  verdure  of  it  made  it 
pleasing  to  the  eye.  But  as  there  were  different  kinds  of  it,  par¬ 
ticularly  that  mentioned  by  Pliny,  which  was  of  a  poisonous 
nature,  it  might  have  been  differently  employed,  on  occasions 
either  of  mirth  or  sadness. 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  XII. 


163 


This  day  the  smiling  month  divides,  15 

O’er  which  the  sea-born  queen  presides  : 

Sacred  to  me,  and  due  to  mirth, 

As  the  glad  hour  that  gave  me  birth  : 

For  when  this  happy  morn  appears 
Maecenas  counts  a  length  of  years  20 

To  roll  in  bright  succession  round, 

With  every  joy  and  blessing  crown’d. 

Gay  Telephus  exults  above 
The  humble  fortunes  of  thy  love ; 

A  rich  and  buxom  maid  detains  25 

His  captive  heart  in  willing  chains. 

The  youth,  destroy’d  by  heavenly  fire, 

Forbids  ambition  to  aspire ; 

And  Pegasus,  who  scorn’d  to  bear 
His  earth-born  rider  through  the  air,  30 

A  dread  example  hath  supplied 
To  check  the  growth  of  human  pride, 

And  caution  my  presumptuous  fair 
To  grasp  at  things  within  her  sphere. 

Come,  then,  my  latest  love,  (for  I  35 

Shall  never  for  another  die,) 

Come  learn  with  me  to  newer  lays 
Thy  voice  of  harmony  to  raise. 

The  soothing  song,  and  charming  air 

Shall  lessen  every  gloomy  care.  40 

16  April  was  called  the  month  of  Venus,  because  her  grand 
festival  began  on  the  first  day  of  that  month. — San. 

ODE  XII.— TO  VIRGIL. 

Horace  invites  Virgil  to  supper,  on  condition  that  he  contribute 
something  towards  the  entertainment. 

Companions  of  the  spring,  the  Thracian  winds 
With  kindly  breath  now  drive  the  bark  from  shore ; 
No  frost,  with  hoary  hand,  the  meadow  binds ; 

Nor  swoln  with  winter  snow  the  torrents  roar. 


164 


HORACE. 


The  swallow,  hapless  bird  !  now  builds  her  nest,  5 
And  in  complaining  notes  begins  to  sing, 

That,  with  revenge  too  cruelly  possess’d, 

Impious  she  punish’d  an  incestuous  king. 

Stretch’d  on  the  springing  grass,  the  shepherd  swain 
His  reedy  pipe  with  rural  music  fills  :  10 

The  god  who  guards  his  flock  approves  the  strain, 
The  god  who  loves  Arcadia’s  gloomy  hills. 

Virgil,  ’tis  thine,  with  noble  youths  to  feast ; 

Yet,  since  the  thirsty  season  calls  for  wine, 

Would  you  a  cup  of  generous  Bacchus  taste,  15 
Bring  you  the  odours,  and  a  cask  is  thine. 

Thy  little  box  of  spikenard  shall  produce 
A  mighty  cask,  that  in  the  cellar  lies  ; 

Big  with  large  hopes  shall  flow  th’  inspiring  juice, 
Powerful  to  sooth  our  griefs,  and  raise  our  joys.  20 

If  pleasures  such  as  these  can  charm  thy  soul, 

Bring  the  glad  merchandise,  with  sweets  replete  ; 

Nor  empty-handed  shall  you  touch  the  bowl, 

Nor  do  I  mean,  like  wealthy  folk,  to  treat. 

Think  on  the  gloomy  pile’s  funereal  flames,  25 
And  be  no  more  with  sordid  lucre  blind; 

Mix  a  short  folly,  that  unbends  the  mind. 


6  The  mythologists  have  spoken  of  Progne  and  Philomela 
m  a  manner  very  little  uniform.  The  generally  received  opin¬ 
ion  at  present  is  that  Progne  was  changed  into  a  swallow,  and 
Philomela  into  a  nightingale ;  but  the  diversity  of  opinions 
among  the  ancients  has  given  the  poets  a  right  of  varying  the 
fable.  Virgil  in  the  sixth  eclogue  changes  Philomela  into  a 
swallow  ;  and  in  the  fourth  book  of  his  Georgies  he  makes  her 
a  nightingale. —  Torr. 

22  The  poet  considers  the  part  every  person  furnishes  to¬ 
wards  an  entertainment  as  a  kind  of  merchandise,  which  part¬ 
ners  in  trade  throw  into  a  common  stock,  that  they  may  divide 
the  profits. — San. 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  XIII. 


165 


ODE  XIII. — TO  LYCE.* 

The  poet  insults  Lyce,  on  being  the  contempt  of  the  young 

fellows. 

The  gods,  the  gods  have  heard  my  prayer, 

See,  Lyce,  see  that  hoary  hair ; 

Yet  you  a  toast  would  shine  : 

You  impudently  drink  and  joke, 

And  with  a  broken  voice  provoke  5 

Desires  no  longer  thine. 

Cupid,  who  joys  in  dimple  sleek, 

Now  lies  in  blooming  Chia’s  cheek, 

Who  tunes  the  melting  lay  ; 

From  blasted  oaks  the  wanton  flies,  10 

Scared  at  thy  wrinkles,  haggard  eyes, 

And  head  snow’d  o’er  with  gray. 

Nor  glowing  purple,  nor  the  blaze 
Of  jewels,  can  restore  the  days; 

To  thee  those  days  of  glory,  15 

Which,  wafted  on  the  wings  of  time, 

Even  from  thy  birth  to  beauty’s  prime, 
Recorded  stand  in  story. 

Ah !  whither  is  thy  Venus  fled? 

That  bloom  by  nature’s  cunning  spread  1  20 

That  every  graceful  art  ? 

*  This  ode  is  a  proof  that  wit  and  honour  are  not  always 
companions.  Lyce  had  in  her  youth  refused  our  poet’s  ad¬ 
dresses,  and  he  now  insults  her  in  a  cruel  outrageous  manner, 
on  the  approach  of  age  and  ugliness.  The  piece  is  animated  ; 
its  allegories  just ;  the  versification  harmonious,  and  expression 
exact :  the  great  poet  everywhere  appears ;  but  we  search  in 
vain  and  with  concern  for  the  man  of  honour.  His  interpreters 
have  endeavoured  to  excuse  him  for  a  conduct,  which  polite¬ 
ness  and  morality  equally  condemn;  but  without  examining  the 
validity  of  their  excuses,  it  were  better  that  Horace  did  not 
need  their  justification. — San. 


I 


166 


HORACE. 


Of  her,  of  her  what  now  remains, 

Who  breathed  the  loves,  who  charm’d  the  swains, 
And  snatch’d  me  from  my  heart? 

Once  happy  maid  !  in  pleasing-  guiles,  25 

Who  vied  with  Cynara  in  smiles, 

Ah!  tragical  survival ! 

She  glorious  died  in  beauty’s  bloom, 

While  cruel  fate  defers  thy  doom 

To  be  the  raven’s  rival.  30 

That  youths,  in  fervent  wishes  bold, 

Not  without  laughter  may  behold 
A  torch,  whose  early  fire 
Could  every  breast  with  love  inflame, 

Now  faintly  spread  a  sickly  gleam,  35 

And  in  a  smoke  expire. 

ODE  XIV.— TO  AUGUSTUS.* 

In  this  ode  Horace  ascribes  the  victories  of  Drusus  and  Ti¬ 
berius  to  the  auspices  and  success  of  Augustus. 

■ 

How  shall  our  holy  senate’s  care 
Or  Rome  with  grateful  joy  prepare 

*  Augustus  had  commanded  our  poet  to  celebrate  the  vic¬ 
tories  of  Drusus  and  Tiberius  over  the  Rhaeti  and  Vindelici ; 
and  as  Tiberius  might  have  been  displeased  that  he  had  not 
been  mentioned  in  the  fourth  ode  of  this  book,  he  is  here  dis¬ 
tinguished  in  a  particular  manner.  The  praises  of  Drusus  are 
confounded  with  those  of  other  heroes  in  the  Claudian  family, 
but  Tiberius  is  associated  with  Augustus.  The  two  pieces  are 
of  the  same  character,  and  equally  animated  by  a  greatness  of 
sentiments,  a  sublimity  of  style,  and  all  other  beauties  of  poetry. 
— Sanadon. 

1  When  Horace  wrote  this  ode  the  senate  and  people  had 
granted  all  honours  to  Augustus  which  could  be  decreed,  not 
only  to  a  man,  but  to  a  god  ;  yet  Horace  demands  by  what  new 
cares,  by  what,  new  dignities,  they  shall  eternize  his  virtues, 
and  assure  to  him  that  immortality  which  he  had  merited 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  XIV. 


167 


Thy  monumental  honours,  big  with  fame, 

And  in  her  festal  annals  eternize  thy  name  1 

Oh  thou,  where  Sol  with  varied  rays  5 

The  habitable  globe  surveys, 

Greatest  of  princes,  whose  vindictive  war 
First  broke  th’  unconquer’d  Gaul  to  thy  triumphal 
car! 

For  when  thy  legions  Drusus  led, 

How  swift  the  rapid  Brenni  fled !  10 

The  rough  Genauni  fell,  and  raised  in  vain 
Tremendous  on  the  Alps,  twice  overwhelm’d  the 
plain 

Their  haughty  towers.  With  just  success 
While  the  good  gods  thy  battle  bless, 

Our  elder  Nero  smote  with  deep  dismay  15 

The  Rhaetians,  huge  of  bulk,  and  broke  their  firm 
array. 

Conspicuous  in  the  martial  strife, 

And  nobly  prodigal  of  life, 

With  what  prodigious  ruins  he  oppress’d 

For  glorious  liberty  the  death-devoted  breast !  20 

As  when  the  Pleiads  rend  the  skies 
In  mystic  dance,  the  winds  arise, 

There  is  somewhat  infinitely  noble  in  this  demand,  and  Horace 
alone  seems  capable  of  adding  whatever  was  yet  wanting  to  the 
glory  of  Augustus. — Dac. 

11  Strabo,  speaking  of  the  cruelty  of  this  people,  tells  us  that 
when  they  had  taken  a  town  in  war,  they  were  not  contented  to 
put  to  the  sword  all  the  men  who  were  capable  of  bearing  arms, 
but  killed  all  male  children,  and  even  women  big  with  child,  if 
their  priest  assured  them  that  it  was  a  boy ! — Dac. 

12  Horace  would  describe  two  different  actions  of  Drusus  in 
the  same  campaign.  In  the  first  he  gained  a  victory  over  the 
Vindelici,  and  covered  Italy  from  their  incursions.  Tiberius, 
who  was  at  that  time  with  Augustus,  was  sent  to  support  his 
brother,  who  then  pushed  his  conquests  against  the  Vindelici, 

^  the  Brenni,  and  Genauni,  when  the  two  brothers,  uniting  their 
forces,  entirely  subdued  the  barbarians. — San. 

21  This  picture  of  the  Pleiades,  who  rise  dancing  out  of  the 
ocean,  and  rend  the  clouds  in  performing  their  circuit,  has 
something  inexpressibly  pleasing  and  noble.  The  PLeiades  are 


168 


HORACE. 


And  work  the  seas  untamed ;  such  was  the  force 
With  which,  through  spreading  fires,  he  spurr’d  his 
foaming  horse. 

So  branching  Aufidus,  who  laves  25 

The  Daunian  realms,  fierce  rolls  his  waves, 
When  to  the  golden  labours  of  the  swain 
He  meditates  his  wrath,  and  deluges  the  plain, 

As  Claudius,  with  impetuous  might, 

Broke  through  the  iron  ranks  of  fight ;  30 

From  front  to  rear  the  bloodless  victor  sped, 

Mow’d  down  th’  embattled  field,  and  wide  the 
slaughter  spread. 

Thine  were  his  troops,  his  counsels  thine, 
And  all  his  guardian  powers  divine  : 

For  since  the  day  when  Alexandria’s  port  35 

Open’d  in  suppliance  low  her  desolated  court, 

When  thrice  five  times  the  circling  sun 
His  annual  course  of  light  had  run. 

Fortune  by  this  success  hath  crown’d  thy  name, 
Confirm’d  thy  glories  past,  and  raised  thy  future 
fame.  40 

Dread  guardian  of  the  imperial  state, 

Whose  presence  rules  thy  country’s  fate, 

On  whom  the  Medes  with  awful  wonder  gaze, 
Whom  unhoused  Scythians  fear,  unconquer’d  Spain 
obeys ; 

The  Nile,  who  hides  his  sevenfold  source,  45 
The  Tigris,  headlong  in  his  course, 

a  constellation  of  seven  stars  in  the  head  of  the  bull,  not  in  his 
tail,  as  Pliny  believed.  They  are  fabled  to  have  been  the  seven 
daughters  of  Atlas,  king  of  Mauritania,  from  whence  Virgil 
calls  them  Atlantides. 

45  Some  Portuguese  Jesuits  have  at  length  discovered  the 
sources  of  the  Nile,  which  so  many  ages  had  endeavoured  to 
find.  Properly  speaking,  this  river  has  but  two  sources,  which 
are  two  fountains,  round  and  extremely  deep,  on  the  top  of  a 
mountain  called  Dengla.  The  river,  which  is  formed  by  these 
fountains  at  some  distance  from  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  takes 
its  course  towards  the  east,  receives  three  little  streams,  then 
turns  to  the  south  for  twelve  leagues,  and  afterward  advances  to 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  XV 


169 


The  Danube,  and  the  ocean  wild  that  roars, 

"With  monster-bearing  waves,  round  Britain’s  rocky 
shores. 

The  fearless  Gaul  thy  name  reveres, 

Thy  voice  the  rough  Iberian  hears,  50 

With  arms  composed  the  fierce  Sicambrians  yield, 
Nor  view,  with  dear  delight,  the  carnage  of  the  field. 


ODE  XV.—1 TO  AUGUSTUS.* 

Horace  dedicates  this  ode  to  Augustus,  on  the  restoration  of 

peace. 

I  would  have  sung  of  battles  dire, 

And  mighty  cities  overthrown, 

When  Phcsbus  smote  me  with  his  lyre, 

And  warn’d  me,  with  an  angry  tone, 

Not  to  unfold  my  little  sail,  or  brave  5 

The  boundless  terrors  of  the  Tyrrhene  wave. 

Yet  will  I  sing  thy  peaceful  reign, 

Which  crowns  with  fruits  our  happy  fields, 

the  west  about  twenty-five  leagues.  At  last,  flowing  through 
Egypt,  it  discharges  itself  into  the  Mediterranean  by  two 
mouths. — San. 

*  In  the  latter  end  of  spring,  744,  Augustus  shut  the  temple 
of  Janus  for  the  third  and  last  time,  which  probably  gave  occa¬ 
sion  to  this  ode. — San. 

3  Horace  could  not  flatter  Augustus  more  agreeably  than  by- 
representing  Apollo  interesting  himself  for  his  glory,  and  orbid- 
ding  the  poet  to  attempt  his  military  actions,  since  it  was  impos¬ 
sible  to  celebrate  them  with  a  dignity  equal  to  the  subject. 
This  address  will  appear  more  delicate  and  artful,  if  we  remem¬ 
ber  how  anxious  Augustus  was  to  have  it  believed  that  Apollo 
was  his  father  and  protector;  particularly  that  he  fought  for 
him  at  the  battle  of  Actium. — San. 

5  To  attempt  with  his  feeble  genius  to  sing  the  victories  of 
Augustus,  is  to  venture  in  a  little  bark  on  a  broad,  tempestuous 
ocean.  The  metaphor  is  beautiful,  the  sentiment  moaest,  and 
the  compliment  to  Augustus  appears  with  equal  truth  and  dig 
nity,  for  it  is  a  compliment  paid  by  a  god. 

Hor.  Vol.  I. — P 


170 


HORACE. 


And  rent  from  Parthia’s  haughty,  fane, 

To  Roman  Jove  his  eagles  yields ;  10 

Augustus  bids  the  rage  of  war  to  cease, 

And  shuts  up  Janus  in  eternal  peace. 

Restrain’d  by  arts  of  ancient  fame, 

Wild  license  walks  at  large  no  more, 

Those  arts,  by  which  the  Latian  name,  15 
The  Roman  strength,  th’  imperial  pow’r, 
With  awful  majesty  unbounded  spread 
To  rising  Phoebus  from  his  western  bed. 

While  watchful  Caesar  guards  our  age, 

Nor  civil  wrath,  nor  loud  alarms  20 

Of  foreign  tumults,  nor  the  rage, 

That  joys  to  forge  destructive  arms, 

And  ruin’d  cities  fills  with  hostile  woes, 

Shall  e’er  disturb,  oh  Rome !  thy  safe  repose. 

Nations,  who  quaff  the  rapid  stream  25 
Where  deep  the  Danube  rolls  his  wave ; 
The  Parthians,  of  perfidious  fame, 

The  Getae  fierce,  and  Seres  brave, 

And  they,  on  Tanais  who  wide  extend, 

Shall  to  the  Julian  laws  reluctant  bend.  30 

Our  wives  and  children  share  our  joy, 

W'ith  Bacchus’  jovial  blessings  gay ; 

Thus  we  the  festal  hours  employ, 

Thus  grateful  hail  the  busy  day  ; 

But  first,  with  solemn  rites  the  gods  adore,  35 
And,  like  our  sires,  their  sacred  aid  implore  ; 

Then  vocal,  with  harmonious  lays 
To  Lydian  flutes,  of  cheerful  sound, 

12  This  temple  was  built  by  Romulus.  His  successor  Numa 
put  two  gates  to  it,  which  were  shut  in  peace,  and  opened  in 
war.  They  had  been  twice  shut  before  the  time  of  Augustus, 
and  thrice  during  his  government. 

38  In  the  time  of  Terence,  the  Romans  had  flutes  which 


BOOK  IV. - ODE  XV. 


171 


Attemper’d  sweetly,  we  shall  raise 
The  valiant  deeds  of  chiefs  renown’d,  40 
Old  Troy,  Anchises,  and  the  godlike  race 
Of  Venus,  blooming  with  immortal  grace. 

might  properly  be  called  Phrygian  and  Lydian.  They  were  dif¬ 
ferent  in  tneir  tones  and  number  of  stops.  The  Lydian  had  but 
one  stop,  and  consequently  was  of  a  deep  tone  ;  the  Phrygian 
had  two,  which  gave  a  shriller  sound.  But  in  the  time  of 
Horace  all  their  flutes  had  many  stops,  and  they  called  them 
Phrygian  or  Lydian,  according  to  the  measures  in  which  they 
played  ;  for  whatever  change  was  made  in  the  instrument  they 
always  played  in  the  ancient  measures.  Thus  the  same  flute 
was  called  Phrygian,  when  they  played  the  Phrygian  measure, 
and  became  Lydian,  when  it  took  the  Lydian  measure.  This 
last  was  better  suited  to  the  voice,  and  as  it  was  of  a  tone 
more  loud  and  lively,  it  was  proper  for  mirth  and  festivals. — 
Dac. 


t 


f 


BOOK  V. 


ODE  I.— TO  MAECENAS. 

Horace  offers  to  accompany  Maecenas  on  the  Actian  expedition. 

While  you,  Maecenas,  dearest  friend, 

Would  Caesar’s  person  with  your  own  defend ; 

And  Antony’s  high-tower’d  fleet, 

With  light  Liburnian  gallies  fearless  meet, 

What  shall  forsaken  Horace  do.  5 

Whose  every  joy  of  life  depends  on  you  1 
With  thee,  ’tis  happiness  to  live, 

And  life,  without  thee,  can  no  pleasure  give. 

1  As  soon  as  Maecenas  had  received  orders  to  hold  himself  in 
readiness  to  go  aboard  the  fleet  of  Octavius,  he  imparted  the 
news  to  Horace,  and  at  the  same  time  declared  to  him  that  he 
would  not  permit  him  to  make  this  voyage  with  him.  This 
declaration  mortified  our  poet,  who  had  attended  him  to  the 
Sicilian  wars  against  Pompey,  and  would  gladly  have  shared 
the  same  dangers  with  him  in  an  action  which  had  fixed  the  at¬ 
tention  of  the  whole  world,  and  which  was  to  give  a  master  to 
the  Roman  empire.  Maecenas  probably  was  unwilling  to  expose 
his  favourite’s  life ;  or  perhaps  he  was  afraid  that  the  fatigues  of 
the  voyage  and  the  war  might  impair  his  health,  which  was 
very  delicate. 

2  We  are  not  much  acquainted  with  Maecenas  under  a  mili¬ 
tary  character,  but  he  seems  to  have  suffered  unjustly  in  that 
respect.  The  battle  of  Actium  was  the  sixth  in  which  he 
fought  for  Octavius  in  the  space  of  twelve  years ;  and  since 
Horace  had  assisted  in  two  of  these  actions,  he  could  speak  of 
his  patron’s  courage,  as  an  ocular  witness.  This  panegyric  on 
Maecenas  includes  indirectly  that  of  Octavius,  by  insinuating 
that  he  was  regardless  of  his  person  in  battle  and  exposed  him¬ 
self  to  the  greatest  dangers. — San. 


BOOK  V. - ODE  I. 


173 


Shall  I  th’  unkind  command  obey, 

And  idly  waste  my  joyless  hours  away ;  10 

Or,  as  becomes  the  brave,  embrace 
The  glorious  toil,  and  spurn  the  thoughts  of  peace  ? 

I  will ;  and  over  Alpine  snow, 

Or  savage  Caucasus  intrepid  go  ; 

Or  follow,  with  undaunted  breast,  15 

Thy  dreadful  warfare  to  the  farthest  west. 

You  ask,  what  aid  I  can  afford, 

A  puny  warrior,  novice  to  the  sword  : 

Absence,  my  lord,  increases  fear ; 

The  danger  lessens  when  the  friend  is  near :  20 

Thus,  if  the  mother-bird  forsake 
Her  unfledged  young,  she  dreads  the  gliding  snake, 
With  deeper  agonies  afraid, 

Not  that  her  presence  could  afford  them  aid. 

With  cheerful  heart  will  I  sustain,  25 

To  purchase  your  esteem,  this  dread  campaign  : 

Not  that  my  ploughs,  with  heavier  toil, 

Or  with  a  larger  team,  may  turn  my  soil ; 

Not  that  my  flocks,  when  Sirius  reigns, 

May  browse  the  verdure  of  Lucania’s  plains ;  30 

Not  that  my  villa  shall  extend 
To  where  the  walls  of  Tusculum  ascend. 

Thy  bounty  largely  hath  supplied, 

Even  with  a  lavish  hand,  my  utmost  pride  ; 

Nor  will  I  meanly  wish  for  more,  35 

Tasteless  in  earth  to  hide  the  sordid  store, 

Like  an  old  miser  in  the  play, 

Or  like  a  spendthrift  squander  it  away. 

P  2 


174 


uilACE* 


ODE  II.  —  THE  PRAISES  OF  A  COUNTRY 

LIFE. 

Alphius  the  usurer,  weary  of  his  craft,  praises  a  country  life ; 

but  shortly  after,  overcome  with  avarice,  he  returns  to  his 
*  natural  bent,  and  his  old  way  of  living. 

Like  the  first  mortals  bless’d  is  he, 

From  debts,  and  usury,  and  business  free, 

With  his  own  team  who  ploughs  the  soil, 
Which  grateful  once  confess’d  his  father’s  toil. 

The  sounds  of  war  nor  break  his  sleep,  5 

Nor  the  rough  storm  that  harrows  up  the  deep  : 

He  shuns  the  courtier’s  haughty  doors, 

And  the  loud  science  of  the  bar  abjures. 

Sometimes  his  marriageable  vines 
Around  the  lofty  bridegroom  elm  he  twines ;  10 

Or  lops  the  vagrant  boughs  away, 

Ingrafting  better  as  the  old  decay  : 

Or  in  the  vale  with  joy  surveys 
His  lowing  herd  safe-wandering  as  they  graze ; 

Or  careful  stores  the  flowing  gold  .  15 

Press’d  from  the  hive,  or  shears  his  tender  fold ; 

Or  when  with  various  fruits  o’erspread, 

The  mellow  Autumn  lifts  his  beauteous  head, 

His  grafted  pears  or  grapes,  that  vie 
With  the  rich  purple  of  the  Tyrian  die,  20 

Grateful  he  gathers,  and  repays 
His  guardian  gods  upon  their  festal  days  ; 

Sometimes  beneath  an  ancient  shade, 

Or  on  the  matted  grass  supinely  laid, 

Where  pours  the  mountain  stream  along,  25 
And  feather’d  warblers  chant  the  soothing  song ; 

Or  where  the  lucid  fountain  flows, 

And  with  its  murmurs  courts  him  to  repose. 

10  The  countryman  here  chooses  the  tallest  trees,  that  he 
may  have  the  best  wine,  for  Pliny  tells  us  high  trees  give  a  richer 
wine,  and  lower  trees  a  greater  quantity. — Dac. 


BOOK  V. - ODE  II. 


175 


But  when  the  rain  and  snows  appear, 

And  wintry  Jove  loud  thunders  o’er  the  year,  30 
With  hounds  he  drives  into  the  toils 
The  foaming  boar,  and  triumphs  in  his  spoils; 

Or  for  the  greedy  thrush  he  lays 
Ilis  nets,  and  with  delusive  baits  betrays ; 

Artful  he  sets  the  springing  snare,  35 

To  catch  the  stranger  crane,  or  timorous  hare. 

Thus  happy,  who  would  stoop  to  prove 
The  pains,  the  wrongs,  and  injuries  of  love  1 
But  if  a  chaste  and  virtuous  wife 
Assist  him  in  the  tender  cares  of  life  ;  40 

Of  sunburnt  charms,  but  honest  fame, 

(Such  as  the  Sabine  or  Apulian  dame,) 

Fatigued  when  homeward  he  returns, 

The  sacred  fire  with  cheerful  lustre  burns  ; 

Or  if  she  milk  her  swelling  kine,  45 

Or  in  their  folds  his  happy  flocks  confine ; 

While  unbought  dainties  crown  the  feast, 

And  luscious  wines  from  this  year’s  vintage  press’d  ; 

No  more  shall  curious  oysters  please  ; 

Or  fish,  the  luxury  of  foreign  seas,  50 

(If  eastern  tempests  thundering  o’er 
The  wintry  wave,  shall  drive  them  to  our  shore ;) 

Or  wild-fowl  of  delicious  taste, 

From  distant  climates  brought  to  crown  the  feast, 
Shall  e’er  so  grateful  prove  to  me  55 

As  olives  gather’d  from  their  unctuous  tree, 

And  herbs,  that  love  the  flowery  field. 

And  cheerful  health  with  pure  digestion  yield ; 

Or  fatling,  on  the  festal  day, 

Or  kid  just  rescued  from  some  beast  of  prey.  60 
Amid  the  feast  how  joys  he  to  behold 
Ills  well-fed  flocks  home  hasting  to  their  fold! 


42  The  Sabines  possessed  the  middle  of  Italy.  They  were  a 
laborious,  frugal  people,  and  their  wives  were  remarkable  for 
chastity  and  modesty,  domestic  housewifery,  and  conjugal 
fidelity. — Cruq. 


176 


HORACE. 


Or  see  his  labour’d  oxen  bow  , 

Their  languid  necks,  and  drag  th’  inverted  plough ! 

At  night  his  numerous  slaves  to  view  65 

Round  his  domestic  gods  their  mirth  pursue ! 

The  usurer  spoke  ;  determined  to  begin 
A  country  life,  he  calls  his  money  in ; 

But  ere  the  moon  was  in  her  wane 
The  wretch  had  put  it  out  to  use  again.  70 

67  Until  these  words,  the  reader  imagines  that  Horace  him¬ 
self  speaks,  and  these  were  his  own  sentiments ;  but  by  giving 
them  to  this  usurer,  he  surprises  his  reader  agreeably,  and 
shows  the  whole  ode  in  a  pleasing  and  a  stronger  light.  Colu¬ 
mella  mentions  Alphius  as  a  remarkable  usurer,  whose  favour¬ 
ite  maxim  was,  that  the  best  debts  become  bad  when  we  suffer 
them  to  rest. — Dac. 

ODE  III.— TO  MAECENAS. 

Hora.ce  expresses  his  aversion  to  garlic. 

If  parricide  ever,  in  horrors  more  dire, 

With  impious  right  hand  shall  strangle  his  sire, 

On  garlic,  than  hemloc  more  rank,  let  him  feed : 

Oh  stomach  of  mowers  to  digest  such  a  weed ! 

What  poison  is  this  in  my  bosom  so  glowing?  5 
Have  I  swallow’d  the  gore  of  a  viper  unknowing  *  . 
Canidia  perhaps  hath  handled  the  feast, 

And  with  witchery  hellish  the  banquet  hath  dress’d. 
With  this  did  Medea  her  lover  besmear, 

Young  Jason,  beyond  all  his  argonauts  fair :  10 

The  stench  was  so  strong,  that  it  tamed  to  the  yoke 
The  brass-footed  bulls  breathing  forth  fire  and  smoke. 
On  the  gown  of  Creiisa  its  juices  she  shed  ; 

Then  on  her  wing’d  dragon  in  triumph  she  fled. 

Not  such  the  strong  vapour,  that  burns  up  the  plains. 
When  the  dogstar  in  anger  triumphantly  reigns  :  16 
Not  the  shirt  of  Alcides,  that  well -labour’d  soldier, 
With  flames  more  envenom’d  burn’d  into  his  shoulder. 

17  This  gift  was  the  robe  which  Dejanira  sent  to  Hercules 
after  having  dipped  it  into  the  blood  of  Nessus ;  and  the  epithet 


BOOK  V. — ODE  IV. 


177 


May  the  girl  of  your  heart,  if  ever  you  taste, 
Facetious  Maecenas,  so  baleful  a  feast,  20 

Her  hand  o’er  your  kisses,  oh,  may  she  bespread. 
And  lie  afar  off  on  the  stock  of  the  bed ! 

ODE  IV. 

The  subject  of  this  ode  is  a  certain  person,  who,  from  a  slave 
being  made  a  military  tribune,  was  to  have  the  command  of 
one  part  of  the  fleet  of  the  Triumviri. 

As  wolves  and  lambs  by  nature  disagree, 

So  is  my  hatred  firm  to  thee : 

Thou  wretch !  whose  back  with  flagrant  whips  is 
torn  ; 

Whose  legs  with  galling  fetters  worn  ; 

Though  wealth  thy  native  insolence  inflame,  5 
A  scoundrel  ever  is  the  same. 

While  you  your  thrice  three  ells  of  gown  display, 
And  stalk  along  the  sacred  way, 

Observe  the  freeborn  indignation  rise ; 

Mark  how  they  turn  away  their  eyes !  10 

This  wretch,  they  cry,  with  public  lashing  flay’d 
Till  e’en  the  beadle  loath’d  his  trade, 

Now  ploughs  his  thousand  acres  of  domain, 

And  wears  the  pavement  with  his  train  ; 

Now  on  the  foremost  benches  sits,  in  spite  15 
Of  Otho,  an  illustrious  knight. 


given  to  Hercules  shows  those  hardy  enterprises  which  he  had 
undertaken  and  executed  in  the  course  of  his  twelve  labours. 

12  There  were  three  judges  in  Rome  who  took  cognizance  of 
all  petty  crimes,  and  who  ordered  slaves  and  thieves  to  be  chas¬ 
tised  in  their  presence.  The  person  against  whom  this  ode  was 
written  had  gone  through  this  discipline,  until  the  beadle,  who 
used  to  proclaim  the  fault  for  which  the  criminals  were  pun¬ 
ished,  was  tired  of  his  office. 

16  Roscius  Otho  carried  a  law  by  which  the  knights  had  four¬ 
teen  benches  in  the  circus  assigned  to  them  separated  from  the 
people  ;  but  even  this  law  distinguished  the  knights  of  birth,  by 
giving  them  a  right  of  sitting  on  the  first  seats,  preferable  to 


178  HORACE. 

From  slaves  and  pirates  to  assert  the  main, 

Shall  Rome  such  mighty  fleets  maintain  1 
And  shall  those  fleets,  that  dreadful  rule  the  sea, 

A  pirate  and  a  slave  obey  1  20 

ODE  V. 

The  imprecations  of  a  boy  against  the  witch  Canidia. 

But  oh,  ye  gods  !  whose  awful  sway 
Heaven,  earth,  and  humankind  obey, 

What  can  this  hideous  noise  intend  ? 

On  me  what  ghastly  looks  they  bend ! 

If  ever  chaste  Lucina  heard  5 

Thy  vows  in  hour  of  birth  preferr’d ; 

Oh  !  by  this  robe’s  impurpled  train, 

Its  purple  pride,  alas  !  how  vain ! 

By  the  unerring  wrath  of  Jove, 

Unerring  shall  his  vengeance  prove  :  10 

Why  like  a  stepdame  do  you  stare, 

Or  like  a  wounded  tigress  glare  1 
Thus,  while  his  sacred  robes  they  tear, 

The  trembling  boy  prefers  his  prayer ; 

Then  naked  stands,  with  such  a  form  15 
As  might  an  impious  Thracian  charm. 
Canidia,  crown’d  with  writhing  snakes, 
Dishevell’d,  thus  the  silence  breaks  : 

“  Now  the  magic  fire  prepare, 

And  from  graves  uprooted  tear  20 

Trees,  whose  horrors  gloomy  spread 
Round  the  mansions  of  the  dead ; 

those  who  were  advanced  to  that  dignity  either  by  their  fortunes 
or  service.  Horace  therefore  attributes  this  fellow’s  assuming 
this  prerogative  to  his  contempt  of  Otho’s  law. — San. 

7  Children  of  quality  wore  a  robe  bordered  with  purple  until 
they  were  fifteen  years  of  age.  The  boy  therefore  conjures 
Canidia  by  his  robe,  which  showed  his  youth  and  quality; 
which  was  in  itself  esteemed  sacred,  and  should  therefore  pro¬ 
tect  him  from  danger. —  Torr.  Dac. 

19  Here  Canidia  calls  for  the  drugs  that  witches  were  sup. 
posed  to  use  in  composing  their  filters  — Dac. 


BOOK  V. - ODE  V. 


179 


Bring  the  eggs,  and  plumage  foul 
Of  the  midnight-shrieking  owl ; 

Be  they  well  besmear’d  with  blood  25 

Of  the  blackest-venom’d  toad ; 

From  their  various  climates  bring 
Every  herb  that  taints  the  spring ; 

Then  into  the  charm  be  thrown, 

Snatch’d  from  famish’d  bitch,  a  bone ;  30 

Burn  them  all  with  magic  flame, 

Kindled  first  by  Colchian  dame.” 

Now  Sagana  around  the  cell 
Sprinkled  her  waters,  black  from  hell ; 

Fierce  as  a  porcupine  or  boar,  35 

In  frightful  wreaths  her  hair  she  wore. 

Veia,  who  never  knew  remorse, 

Uplifts  the  spade  with  feeble  force  ; 

And  breathless  with  the  hellish  toil, 
Deep-groaning  breaks  the  guilty  soil ;  40 

Turns  out  the  earth,  and  digs  a  grave 
In  which  the  boy  (as  o’er  the  wave 
A  lusty  swimmer  lifts  his  head) 

Chin-deep  sinks  downward  to  the  dead, 

O’er  dainties,  changed  twice  thrice,  a  day,  45 
Slowly  to  gaze  his  life  away  ; 

That  the  foul  hags  an  amorous  dose 
Of  his  parched  marrow  may  compose  ; 

His  marrow,  and  his  liver  dried, 

The  seat  where  wanton  thoughts  reside  ;  50 
When  fix’d  upon  his  food  in  vain, 

His  eyeballs  pined  away  by  pain. 

Naples  for  idleness  renown’d, 

And  all  the  villages  around, 

53  Naples,  by  the  advantages  of  its  situation,  and  temper¬ 
ature  of  its  climate,  was  always  regarded  as  the  seat  of  idleness 
and  pleasures.  Either  this  horrid  fact  must  have  been  gener¬ 
ally  known,  or  Horace  has  taken  a  pleasant  manner  of  proving 
it,  by  calling  Naples  and  all  the  neighbouring  villages  as  wit¬ 
nesses  of  it. 


180 


HORACE. 


Believe  that  Folia  shared  their  rites,  55 
She  who  in  monstrous  lusts  delights  ; 

Whose  voice  the  stars  from  heaven  can  tear, 
And  charm  bright  Luna  from  her  sphere. 
Here,  with  black  tooth  and  livid  jaws, 

,  Her  unpared  thumbs  Canidia  gnaws,  60 
And  into  hideous  accents  broke, 

In  sounds,  how  direful !  thus  she  spoke  : 

“Ye  powers  of  darkness  and  of  hell, 
Propitious  to  the  magic  spell, 

Who  rule  in  silence  o’er  the  night,  65 

While  we  perform  the  mystic  rite, 

Be  present  now ;  your  horrors  shed 
In  hallow’d  vengeance  on  his  head. 

Beneath  the  forest’s  gloomy  shade, 

While  beasts  in  slumbers  sweet  are  laid,  70 
Give  me  the  lecher,  old  and  lewd, 

By  barking  village  curs  pursued ; 

Exposed  to  laughter,  let  him  shine 
In  essence — ah  !  that  once  was  mine. 

What !  shall  my  strongest  potions  fail,  75 
And  could  Medea’s  charms  prevail  1 
When  the  fair  harlot,  proud  of  heart, 

Deep  felt  the  vengeance  of  her  art ; 

Her  gown  with  powerful  poisons  died, 

In  flames  inwrapt  the  guilty  bride.  80 

Yet  every  root  and  herb  I  know, 

And  on  what  steepy  depths  they  grow ; 

And  yet,  with  essence  round  him  shed, 

He  sleeps  in  some  bold  harlot’s  bed  ; 

Or  walks  at  large,  nor  thinks  of  me,  85 
s  By  some  more  mighty  witch  set  free. 

“  But  soon  the  wretch  my  wrath  shall  prove, 
By  spells  unwonted  taught  to  love  ; 

Nor  shall  e’en  Marsian  charms  have  power 
Thy  peace,  oh  Varus!  to  restore.  90 

With  stronger  drugs,  a  larger  bowl 
I’ll  fill,  to  bend  thy  haughty  soul ; 


BOOK  V. - ODE  VI.  181 

Sooner  the  seas  to  heaven  shall  rise, 

And  earth  spring  upward  to  the  skies, 

Than  you  not  burn  in  fierce  desire,  95 

As  melts  this  pitch  in  smoky  fire.” 

The  boy,  with  lenient  words,  no  more 
Now  strives  their  pity  to  implore  : 

With  rage  yet  doubtful  what  to  speak, 

Forth  from  his  lips  these  curses  break —  100 
“  Your  spells  may  right  and  wrong  remove, 
But  ne’er  shall  change  the  wrath  of  Jove  ; 
For  while  I  curse  the  direful  deed, 

In  vain  shall  all  your  victims  bleed. 

Soon  as  this  tortured  body  dies,  105 

A  midnight  fury  will  I  rise : 

Then  shall  my  ghost,  though  form’d  of  air, 
Your  cheeks  with  crooked  talons  tear; 
Unceasing  on  your  entrails  prey, 

And  fright  the  thoughts  of  sleep  away :  1 10 

Such  horrors  shall  the  guilty  know  ; 

Such  is  the  power  of  gods  below. 

“Ye  filthy  hags,  with  showers  of  stones 
The  vengeful  crowd  shall  crush  your  bones  ; 
Then  beasts  of  prey  and  birds  of  air  115 
Shall  your  unburied  members  tear  ; 

And,  while  they  weep  their  favourite  boy, 

My  parents  shall  the  vengeful  sight  enjoy.” 

ODE  YI. — TO  CASSIUS  SEVERUS. 

Horace  threatens  to  revenge  himself  on  Cassius  Severus  for 

his  maledictions. 

You  dog,  that  fearful  to  provoke 
The  wolf,  attack  offenceless  folk ! 

Turn  hither,  if  you  dare,  your  spite, 

And  bark  at  me,  prepared  to  bite  ; 

For  like  a  hound,  or  mastiff  keen,  5 

That  guards  the  shepherd’s  flocky  green, 
Through  the  deep  snows  I  boldly  chase, 

With  ears  erect,  the  savage  race  ; 

Hor.  Vol.  I. — Q 


182 


HORRCE. 


But  you,  when  with  your  hideous  yelling 
You  fill  the  grove,  at  crusts  are  smelling.  10 
Fierce  as  Archilochus  I  glow, 

Like  Hipponax  a  deadly  foe. 

If  any  mongrel  shall  assail 
My  character  with  tooth  and  nail , 

What !  like  a  truant  boy,  shall  I  5 

i  Do  nothing  in  revenge — but  cry  1 


ODE  VII.—1 TO  THE  ROMAN  PEOPLE.* 

On  the  renewal  of  the  civil  war. 

Whither,  oh  !  whither,  impious,  do  ye  run  ? 

Why  is  the  sword  unsheathed,  the  war  begun  1 
Has  then  too  little  of  the  Latian  blood 
Been  pour’d  on  earth,  or  mix’d  with  Neptune’s  flood  1 
Nor  that  the  Romans  with  avenging  flame  5 

Might  burn  the  rival  of  the  Roman  name, 

Or  Britons  yet  unbroken  to  our  war, 

In  chains  should  follow  our  triumphal  car, 

*  After  the  defeat  of  Brutus  and  Cassius,  the  death  of  Sextus 
Pompeius,  and  the  resignation  of  Lepidus,  Octavius  and  Antony 
alone  remained  in  a  condition  of  disputing  the  sovereign  power. 
Sometimes  Octavia,  sometimes  their  common  friends  reconciled 
them  ;  but  at  length  they  came  to  an  open  rupture  in  the  year 
722,  when  all  the  forces  of  the  republic  were  armed  to  give  the 
last  stroke  to  Roman  liberty.  During  these  preparations  Horace 
composed  five  or  six  odes  on  this  subject.  His -design  here  is  to 
represent  to  both  parties  the  horrors  of  their  criminal  dissen¬ 
sions,  which  threatened  their  common  country  with  total  ruin. 
He  was  not  ignorant  that  the  ambition  of  the  two  chiefs  was  the 
sole  cause  of  these  misfortunes  ;  but  he  speaks  with  reserve  :  nor 
does  he  declare  for  either  of  them,  that  he  might  not  expose 
himself  (since  the  event  of  the  war  was  yet  uncertain)  to  the 
resentment  of  the  conqueror. — San. 

7  Julius  Caesar  was  the  first  of  the  Romans  who  carried  his 
arms  into  Britain :  and  although  Suetonius  tells  us  that  he 
obliged  the  Britons  to  give  hostages,  and  imposed  tributes  on 
them,  yet  we  may  say  that  he  rather  opened  a  way  for  his  suc¬ 
cessors  into  the  island,  than  that  he  conquered  it ;  or  perhaps 


BOOK  V. - ODE  IX. 


183 


But  that  the  Parthian  should  his  vows  enjoy, 

And  Rome,  with  impious  hand,  herself  destroy.  10 
The  rage  of  wolves  and  lions  is  confined; 

They  never  prey  but  on  a  different  kind. 

Answer,  from  madness  rise  their  horrors  dire  1 
Does  angry  fate,  or  guilt  your  souls  inspire  ! 

Silent  they  stand;  with  stupid  wonder  gaze,  15 
While  the  pale  cheek  their  inward  guilt  betrays.  • 
’Tis  so — the  fates  have  cruelly  decreed 
That  Rome  for  ancient  fratricide  must  bleed  : 

The  brother’s  blood,  which  stain’d  our  rising  walls. 
On  his  descendants  loud  for  vengeance  calls.  20 


ODE  IX.— TO  MAECENAS. 

Horace  celebrates  the  successes  that  preceded  the  victory  at 

Actium. 

When  shall  we  quaff  your  old  Caecubian  wine, 
Reserved  for  pious  feasts,  and  joys  divine  ? 

Caesar  with  conquest  comes,  and  gracious  Jove, 
Who  gave  that  conquest,  shall  our  joys  approve. 
Then  bid  the  breath  of  harmony  inspire  5 

The  Doric  flute,  and  wake  the  Phrygian  lyre  ; 

As  late,  when  the  Neptunian  youth,  who  spurn’d 
A  mortal  birth,  beheld  his  navy  burn’d, 

And  fled  affrighted  through  his  father’s  waves, 

With  his  perfidious  host ;  his  host  of  slaves,  10 

it  was  never  totally  subdued  by  the  Romans.  In  the  time  of 
Horace  the  reduction  of  the  people  was  considered  as  a  new 
conquest,  reserved  for  the  arms  of  Augustus.  He  always  men¬ 
tions  them  with  epithets  of  terror,  which  represent  them  as  a 
nation  formidable  to  the  Romans,  even  in  the  highest  strength 
and  glory  of  their  republic. 

10  Pompey  received  all  the  slaves  who  would  enter  into  his 
service  ;  and  the  desertion  was  so  great  through  Italy,  that  the 
vestals  offered  sacrifices  and  prayers  to  prevent  the  continuance 
of  it. — San. 


184  HORACE. 

Freed  from  those  chains,  with  which  his  rage  de¬ 
sign’d, 

Impious  !  the  freeborn  sons  of  Rome  to  bind. 

The  Roman  troops,  (oh !  be  the  tale  denied 
By  future  times,)  enslaved  to  woman’s  pride, 

And  to  a  wither’d  eunuch’s  will  severe  15 

Basely  subdued,  the  toils  of  war  could  bear. 

Amid  the  Roman  eagles  Sol  survey’d, 

Oh  shame  !  th’  Egyptian  canopy  display’d  ; 

When  twice  a  thousand  Gauls  aloud  proclaim, 
Indignant  at  the  sight,  great  Caesar’s  name,  20 
And  a  brave  fleet,  by  just  resentment  led, 

Turn’d  their  broad  prows,  and  to  our  havens  fled. 

Come,  god  of  triumphs,  bring  the  golden  car, 

The  untamed  heifers,  and  the  spoils  of  war ; 

For  he,  whose  virtue  raised  his  awful  tomb  25 
O’er  ruin’d  Carthage,  ne’er  return’d  to  Rome 
So  great  and  glorious,  nor  could  Libya’s  field 
To  thee,  oh  Triumph,  such  a  leader  yield. 

Pursued  by  land  and  sea,  the  vanquish’d  foe 
Hath  changed  his  purple  for  the  garb  of  wo  ;  30 

With  winds,  no  more  his  own;  with  shatter’d  fleet, 
He  seeks  the  far-famed  hundred  towns  of  Crete  ; 
To  tempest-beaten  Libya  speeds  his  way, 

Or  drives  a  vagrant  through  the  uncertain  sea. 

Boy,  bring  us  larger  bowls,  and  fill  them  round  35 
With  Chian,  or  the  Lesbian  vintage  crown’d, 

Or  rich  Caecubian,  which  may  best  restrain 
All  sickening  qualms,  and  fortify  the  brain. 

Th’  inspiring  juice  shall  the  gay  banquet  warm, 

Nor  Caesar’s  danger  shall  our  fears  alarm.  40 

21  The  poet  ascribes  these  desertions  to  the  conduct  of  Cleo¬ 
patra,  who  was  not  ashamed  to  display  her  luxury  even  in  the 
midst  of  a  camp.  His  whole  indignation  falls  on  this  princess ; 
nor  does  he  say  anything  that  can  be  personally  applied  to  An¬ 
tony.  He  only  describes  him  in  general  by  calling  him  the 
Roman  soldier,  and  the  conquered  enemy. — San. 


BOOK  Y. - ODE  X 


185 


ODE  X.— TO  MAEVIUS. 

Horace  wishes  that  Maevius  may  suffer  shipwreck. 

When  filthy  Maevius  hoists  the  spreading  sail, 

Each  luckless  omen  shall  prevail : 

Ye  southern  winds,  invert  the  foamy  tides, 

And  bang  his  labouring  vessel’s  sides  ; 

Let  Eurus  rouse  the  main  with  blackening  roar,  5 
Crack  every  cable,  every  oar ; 

Let  the  north  wind  rise  dreadful  o’er  the  floods, 

As  when  it  breaks  the  mountain  woods ; 

Nor  let  one  friendly  star  shine  o’er  the  night, 

When  sets  Orion’s  gloomy  light.  10 

Mayst  thou  no  kinder  winds,  oh  Maevius !  meet, 
Than  the  victorious  Grecian  fleet, 

When  Pallas  turn’d  her  rage  from  ruin’d  Troy, 

The  impious  Ajax  to  destroy. 

With  streams  of  sweat  the  toiling  sailor  glows,  15 
Thy  face  a  muddy  paleness  shows, 

Nor  shall  thy  vile,  unmanly  wailings  move 
The  pity  of  avenging  Jove  ; 

While  wat’ry  winds  the  bellowing  ocean  shake, 

I  see  thy  luckless  vessel  break  ;  20 

But  if  thy  carcass  reach  the  winding  shore, 

And  birds  the  pamper’d  prey  devour, 

A  lamb  and  lustful  goat  shall  thank  the  storm, 

And  I  the  sacrifice  perform. 

3  It  is  remarkable  that  Horace  mentions  those  winds  alone, 
which  were  contrary  to  the  voyage  of  this  unfortunate  rhymer. 
He  even  makes  a  difference  between  them,  and  addresses  him¬ 
self  particularly  to  the  south,  for  its  power  over  those  seas, 
especially  the  entrance  into  the  gulf  of  Venice.  The  west  wind 
could  not  justly  be  mentioned,  since  it  must  have  been  favour¬ 
able  to  his  voyage. — San. 

23  The  Greeks  sacrificed  a  black  male  lamb  to  the  tempests, 
whom  they  worshipped  as  gods ;  the  Romans  offered  them  a 
black  ewe,  as  to  goddesses. 

Q  2 


186 


HORACE. 


ODE  XI.— TO  PETTIUS 

Horace  says  he  is  so  much  in  love  that  he  cannot  apply  him¬ 
self  to  the  study  of  poetry. 

Since  cruel  love,  oh  Pettius  !  pierced  my  heart, 
How  have  I  lost  my  once-loved  lyric  art ! 

Thrice  have  the  woods  their  leafy  honour  mourn’d 
Since  for  Inachia’s  beauties  Horace  burn’d. 

How  was  I  then  (for  I  confess  my  shame)  5 

Of  every  idle  tale  the  laughing  theme ! 

Oh !  that  I  ne’er  had  known  the  jovial  feast, 

Where  the  deep  sigh,  that  rends  the  labouring  breast, 
Where  languor,  and  a  gentle  silence  shows 
To  every  curious  eye  the  lover’s  woes.  10 

Pettius,  how  often  o’er  the  flowing  bowl, 

When  the  gay  liquor  warm’d  my  opening  soul, 
When  Bacchus,  jovial  god,  no  more  restrain’d 
The  modest  secret,  how  have  I  complain’d, 

That  wealthy  blockheads,  in  a  female’s  eyes,  15 
From  a  poor  poet’s  genius  bear  the  prize  ; 

But  if  a  generous  rage  my  breast  should  warm, 

I  swore — no  vain  amusements  e’er  shall  charm 
My  aching  wounds.  Ye  vagrant  winds,  receive 
The  sighs,  that  sooth  the  pains  they  should  relieve ; 
Here  shall  my  shame  of  being  conquer’d  end,  21 
Nor  with  such  rivals  will  I  more  contend. 

When  thus,  with  solemn  air,  I  vaunting  said, 
Inspired  by  thy  advice,  I  homeward  sped  ; 

But  ah  !  my  feet  in  wonted  wanderings  stray,  25 
And  to  no  friendly  doors  my  steps  betray ; 

There  I  forget  my  vows,  forget  my  pride, 

And  at  her  threshold  lay  my  tortured  side. 


BOOK  V. - ODE  XIII. 


187 


ODE  XIII.— TO  A  FRIEND. 

The  poet  in  this  ode  insists  that  the  troubles  of  life  are  to  be 
assuaged  by  drinking,  music,  and  friendly  conversation. 

See  what  horrid  tempests  rise, 

And  contract  the  clouded  skies  ; 

Snows  and  showers  fill  the  air, 

And  bring  down  the  atmosphere. 

Hark !  what  tempests  sweep  the  floods  !  5 

How  they  shake  the  rattling  woods! 

Let  us,  while  it’s  in  our  power, 

Let  us  seize  the  fleeting  hour  ; 

While  our  cheeks  are  fresh  and  gay, 

Let  us  drive  old  age  away  ;  10 

Let  us  smooth  its  gather’d  brows, 

Youth  its  hour  of  mirth  allows. 

Bring  us  down  the  mellow’d  wine, 

Rich  with  years  that  equal  mine ; 

Prithee,  talk  no  more  of  sorrow,  15 

To  the  gods  belong  to-morrow, 

And,  perhaps,  with  gracious  power, 

They  may  change  the  gloomy  hour. 

Let  the  richest  essence  shed 
Eastern  odours  on  your  head,  20 

While  the  soft  Cyllenian  lyre 
Shall  your  labouring  breast  inspire. 

To  his  pupil,  brave  and  young, 

Thus  the  noble  centaur  sung  ; 

Matchless  mortal !  though  ’tis  thine  25 

Proud  to  boast  a  birth  divine, 

Yet  the  banks,  with  cooling  waves, 

Which  the  smooth  Scamander  laves  ; 

And  where  Simoi's  with  pride 

Rougher  rolls  his  rapid  tide,  30 

Destined  by  unerring  fate, 

Shall  the  sea-born  hero  wait. 

There  the  sisters,  fated  boy, 

Shall  thy  thread  of  life  destroy 


188 


HORACE. 


Nor  shall  azure  Thetis  more  35 

Waft  thee  to  thy  natal  shore ; 

Then  let  joy  and  mirth  be  thine, 

Mirthful  songs  and  joyous  wine, 

And  with  converse  blithe  and  gay 

Drive  all  gloomy  cares  away.  40 

ODE  XV.— TO  NEA3RA. 

Horace  complains  of  Neaera’s  breach  of  faith. 

Clear  was  the  night,  the  face  of  heaven  serene, 
Bright  shone  the  moon  amid  her  starry  train, 

When  round  my  neck  as  curls  the  tendril-vine — 
(Loose  are  its  curlings,  if  compared  to  thine) 

’Twas  then,  insulting  every  heavenly  power,  5 
That,  as  I  dictated,  you  boldly  swore  : 

While  the  gaunt  wolf  pursues  the  trembling  sheep ; 
While  fierce  Orion  harrows  up  the  deep; 

While  Phoebus’  locks  float  wanton  in  the  wind, 

Thus  shall  Neaera  prove,  thus  ever  kind.  10 

But,  if  with  aught  of  man  was  Horace  born, 
Severely  shalt  thou  feel  his  honest  scorn, 

Nor  will  he  tamely  bear  the  bold  delight 
With  which  his  rival  riots  out  the  night, 

But  in  his  anger  seek  some  kinder  dame,  15 

Warm  with  the  raptures  of  a  mutual  flame  ; 

Nor  shall  thy  rage,  thy  grief,  or  angry  charms, 
Recall  the  lover  to  thy  faithless  arms. 

And  thou,  whoe’er  thou  art,  who  joy  to  shine, 
Proud  as  thou  art,  in  spoils  which  once  were  mine,  20 
Though  wide  thy  land  extends,  and  large  thy  fold, 
Though  rivers  roll  for  thee  their  purest  gold, 
Though  nature’s  wisdom  in  her  works  were  thine, 
And  beauties  of  the  human  face  divine, 

Yet  soon  thy  pride  her  wandering  love  shall  mourn,  25 
While  1  shall  laugh,  exulting  in  my  turn. 


BOOK  V.*  ODE  XVI. 


189 


ODE  XVI.— TO  THE  ROMANS. 

Horace  here  foretells  that  Rome,  torn  in  pieces  by  intestine 

wars,  would  be  deserted  after  the  example  of  the  Phocaeans. 

In  endless  civil  war,  th’  imperial  state 
By  her  own  strength  precipitates  her  fate. 

What  neighbouring  nations,  fiercely  leagued  in  arms, 
What  Porsena,  with  insolent  alarms 
Threatening  her  tyrant  monarch  to  restore  ;  5 

What  Spartacus,  and  Capua’s  rival  power  ; 

What  Gaul,  tumultuous  and  devoid  of  truth, 

And  fierce  Germania,  with  her  blue-eyed  youth ; 
What  Hannibal,  on  whose  accursed  head 
Our  sires  their  deepest  imprecations  shed,  10 

In  vain  attempted  to  her  awful  state, 

Shall  we,  a  blood-devoted  race,  complete  1 
Again  shall  savage  beasts  these  hills  possess, 

And  fell  barbarians,  wanton  wilh  success, 

Scatter  our  city’s  flaming  ruins  wide,  15 

Or  through  her  streets  in  vengeful  triumph  ride, 

And  her  great  founder’s  hallow’d  ashes  spurn, 

That  sleep  uninjured  in  their  sacred  urn  ? 

But  some,  perhaps,  to  shun  the  rising  shame, 
(Which  heaven  approve,)  would  try  some  happier 
scheme.  20 

As  the  Phocaeans  oft  for  freedom  bled, 

At  length  with  imprecated  curses,  fled, 

11  The  civil  wars  between  Marius  and  Sylla,  which  began  in 
666,  were  never  perfectly  extinguished  until  the  death  of  An¬ 
tony,  724.  Horace,  therefore,  says  that  this  was  the  second  age 
of  those  wars,  because  they  had  commenced  in  the  preceding 
century. 

22  The  Phocaeans,  being  besieged  by  Harpagus,  general  of 
the  Persians,  demanded  one  day’s  truce  to  deliberate  on  the 
propositions  he  had  sent,  to  them,  and  desired  that  he  would 
draw  off  his  army  from  their  walls.  As  soon  as  Harpagus  had 
consented,  they  carried  their  most  valuable  effects,  their  wives 
and  children,  aboard  their  ships.  Then  throwing  a  mass  of 


190 


HORACE. 


And  left  to  boars  and  wolves  the  sacred  fane, 

With  all  their  household  gods,  adored  in  vain, 

So  let  us  fly,  as  far  as  earth  extends,  25 

Or  where  the  vagrant  wind  our  voyage  bends. 

Shall  this,  or  shall  some  better  scheme  prevail? 
Why  do  we  stop  to  hoist  the  willing  sail? 

But  let  us  swear,  when  floating  rocks  shall  gain, 
Raised  from  the  deep,  the  surface  of  the  main;  30 
When  lowly  Po  the  mountain  summit  laves, 

And  Apennine  shall  plunge  beneath  the  waves ; 
When  nature’s  monsters  meet  in  strange  delight, 
And  the  fell  tigress  shall  with  stags  unite ; 

When  the  fierce  kite  shall  woo  the  willing  dove,  35 
And  win  the  wanton  with  adulterous  love  ; 

When  herds  on  brindled  lions  fearless  gaze, 

And  the  smooth  goat  exults  in  briny  seas  ; 

Then,  and  then  only,  to  the  tempting  gale, 

To  spread  repentant  the  returning  sail.  40 

Yet  to  cut  off  our  hopes — those  hopes  that  charm 
Our  fondless  home — let  us  with  curses  arm 
These  high  resolves.  Thus  let  the  brave  and  wise, 
Whose  souls  above  th’  indocile  vulgar  rise  : 

Then  let  the  crowd,  who  dare  not  hope  success,  45 
Inglorious,  these  ill-omen’d  seats  possess. 

But  ye,  whom  virtue  warms,  indulge  no  more 
These  female  plaints,  but  quit  this  fated  shore  : 

For  earth-surrounding  sea  our  flight  awaits, 

Offering  its  blissful  isles,  and  happy  seats,  50 

Where  annual  Ceres  crowns  th’  uncultured  field. 
And  vines  unpruned  their  blushing  clusters  yield  • 
Where  olives,  faithful  to  their  season,  grow, 

And  figs  with  nature’s  deepest  purple  glow  ; 

From  hollow  oaks  where  honey’d  streams  distil,  55 
And  bounds  with  noisy  foot  the  pebbled  rill  , 

glowing  iron  into  the  sea,  they  bound  themselves  by  oath 
never  to  return  to  their  country  until  that  mass  should  rise  to 
the  surface  of  the  water.  From  hence  a  Grecian  proverb,  “  As 
long  as  the  Phocaean  mass  of  iron  shall  continue  at  the  bottom 
of  the  ocean.” 


BOOK  V. - ODE  XVII. 


191 


Where  goats  untaught  forsake  the  flowery  vale, 
And  bring  their  swelling  udders  to  the  pail ; 

Nor  evening  bears  the  sheepfold  growl  around, 

Nor  mining  vipers  heave  the  tainted  ground  ;  60 

Nor  wat’ry  Eurus  deluges  the  plain, 

Nor  heats  excessive  burn  the  springing  grain. 

Not  Argo  thither  turn’d  her  armed  head  ; 

Medea  there  no  magic  poison  spread ; 

No  merchants  thither  plough  the  pathless  main,  65 
For  guilty  commerce,  and  a  thirst  of  gain ; 

Nor  wise  Ulysses,  and  his  wandering  bands, 
Vicious,  though  brave,  e’er  knew  these  happy  lands. 
O’er  the  glad  flocks  no  foul  contagion  spreads, 

Nor  summer  sun  his  burning  influence  sheds.  70 
Pure  and  unmix’d  the  world’s  first  ages  roll’d, 

But  soon  as  brass  had  stain’d  the  flowing  gold, 

To  iron  hardened  by  succeeding  crimes, 

Jove  for  the  just  preserved  these  happy  climes, 

To  which  the  gods  their  pious  race  invite,  75 

And  bid  me,  raptured  bard,  direct  their  flight. 

ODE  XVII.— TO  CANIDIA. 

Horace  ironically  begs  pardon  of  Canidia ;  she  answers  that 
she  never  will  be  reconciled. 

Canidia,  to  thy  matchless  art 
Vanquish’d  I  yield  a  suppliant  heart; 

But  oh !  by  hell’s  extended  plains, 

Where  Pluto’s  gloomy  consort  reigns  ; 

By  bright  Diana’s  vengeful  rage,  5 

Which  prayers,  not  hecatombs  assuage  ; 

And  by  the  books,  of  power  to  call 
The  charmed  stars,  and  bid  them  fall, 

No  more  pronounce  the  sacred  scroll, 

But  back  the  magic  circle  roll.  10 

Even  stern  Achilles  could  forgive 
The  Mysian  king,  and  bid  him  live, 

12  Telephus  was  king  of  Mysia.  When  the  Greeks  entered 
his  country,  in  their  passage  to  Troy,  he  opposed  them  vigor- 


192 


HORACE. 


Though  proud  he  ranged  the  ranks  of  fight, 

And  hurl’d  the  spear  with  daring  might, 

Thus,  when  the  murderous  Hector  lay,  15 
Condemn’d  to  dogs,  and  birds  of  prey, 

Yet  when  his  royal  father  kneel’d, 

The  fierce  Achilles  knew  to  yield, 

And  Troy’s  unhappy  matrons  paid 
Their  sorrows  to  their  Hector’s  shade.  20 
Ulysses’  friends,  in  labours  tried, 

So  Circe  will’d,  threw  off  their  hide, 

Assumed  the  human  form  divine, 

And  dropp’d  the  voice  and  sense  of  swine. 

Oh  thou,  whom  tars  and  merchants  love,  25 
Too  deep  thy  vengeful  rage  I  prove, 

Reduced,  alas !  to  skin  and  bone, 

My  vigour  fled,  my  colour  gone. 

Thy  fragrant  odours  on  my  head 

More  than  the  snows  of  age  have  shed.  30 

Days  press  on  nights,  and  nights  on  days, 

Yet  never  bring  an  hour  of  ease, 

While  gasping  in  the  pangs  of  death, 

I  stretch  my  lungs  in  vain  for  breath, 

Thy  charms  have  power  (’tis  now  confess’d) 
To  split  the  head,  and  tear  the  breast.  36 

What  would  you  more,  all-charming  dame  1 
Oh  seas,  and  earth !  this  scorching  flame  ! 

Not  such  the  fire  Alcides  bore 

When  the  black-venom’d  shirt  he  wore  :  40 

Nor  such  the  flames  that  to  the  skies 

From  ^Etna’s  burning  entrails  rise  ; 

And  yet,  thou  shop  of  poisons  dire, 

You  glow  wTith  unrelenting  fire, 

Till  by  the  rapid  heat  calcined,  45 

Vagrant  I  drive  before  the  wind. 

ously  ;  but  being  wounded  by  Achilles,  he  was  told  by  the  ora¬ 
cle  that  he  could  only  be  cured  by  the  weapon  with  which  he 
was  wounded.  He  applied  to  Achilles,  who,  scraping  his  lance, 
poured  the  filings  into  his  wound.  Pliny  mentions  a  picture  in 
which  Achilles  was  painted  performing  the  cure. — Lamb. 


BOOK  V. - ODE  XVII. 


193 


How  long  ?  What  ransom  shall  I  pay  1 
Speak — I  the  stern  command  obey. 

To  expiate  the  guilty  deed, 

Say,  shall  a  hundred  bullocks  bleed  ?  50 

Or  shall  I  to  the  lying  string 
Thy  fame  and  spotless  virtue  singl 
Teach  thee,  a  golden  star,  to  rise, 

And  deathless  walk  the  spangled  skies  1 
When  Helen’s  virtue  was  defamed,  55 

Her  brothers,  though  with  rage  enflamed, 

Yet  to  the  bard  his  eyes  restored, 

When  suppliant  he  their  grace  implored. 

Oh!  calm  this  madness  of  my  brain, 

For  you  can  heal  this  raging  pain.  60 

You  never  knew  the  birth  of  shame, 

Nor  by  thy  hand,  all-skilful  dame, 

The  poor  man’s  ashes  are  upturn’d, 

Though  they  be  thrice  three  days  inurn’d. 

Thy  bosom’s  bounteous  and  humane,  65 

Thy  hand  from  blood  and  murder  clean ; 

And  with  a  blooming  race  of  boys 
Lucina  crowns  thy  mother-joys. 

CANIDIA’S  ANSWER. 

I’ll  hear  no  more.  Thy  prayers  are  vain : 

Not  rocks,  amid  the  wintry  main, 

Less  heed  the  shipwreck’d  sailor’s  cries, 

When  Neptune  bids  the  tempest  rise. 

Shall  you  Cotytto’s  feast  deride,  5 

Yet  safely  triumph  in  thy  pride  I 
Or,  impious,  to  the  glare  of  day 
The  sacred  joys  of  love  betray  ? 

5  Cotys,  or  Cotytto,  was  the  goddess  of  impurity,  and  al¬ 
though  she  did  not  preside  over  assemblies  of  witches,  yet  as 
there  were  many  vile  and  infamous  ceremonies  practised  in 
them,  the  poet  satirically  makes  Canidia  call  them  the  feasts  of 
Cotys. — Politian. 

Hor.  Vol.  I. — R 


194 


HORACE. 


Or  fill  the  city  with  my  name, 

And  pontiff-like  our  rites  defame  ?  10 

Did  I  with  wealth  in  vain  enrich, 

Of  potent  spells  each  charming  witch, 

Or  mix  the  speedy  drugs  in  vain  1 
No — through  a  lingering  length  of  pain, 
Reluctant  shalt  thou  drag  thy  days,  15 

While  every  hour  new  pangs  shall  raise. 

Gazing  on  the  delusive  feast, 

Which  charms  his  eye,  yet  flies  his  taste, 
Perfidious  Tantalus  implores, 

For  rest,  for  rest,  the  vengeful  powers ;  20 

Prometheus,  while  the  vulture  preys 
Upon  his  liver,  longs  for  ease  ; 

And  Sisyphus,  with  many  a  groan, 

Uprolls,  with  ceaseless  toil,  his  stone, 

To  fix  it  on  the  topmost  hill,  25 

In  vain,  for  Jove’s  all-ruling  will 
Forbids.  When  thus  in  black  despair 
Down  from  some  castle,  high  in  air, 

You  seek  a  headlong  fate  below, 

Or  try  the  dagger’s  pointed  blow,  30 

Or  if  the  left-ear’d  knot  you  tie, 

Yet  death  your  vain  attempts  shall  fly  ; 

Then  on  your  shoulders  will  I  ride, 

And  earth  shall  shake  beneath  my  pride 
Could  I  with  life  an  image  warm,  35 

(Impertinent,  you  saw  the  charm,) 

Or  tear  down  Luna  from  her  skies, 

Or  bid  the  dead,  though  burn’d,  arise, 

Or  mix  the  draught  inspiring  love, 

fcnd  shall  my  art  on  thee  successless  prove  ]  40 


THE  SECULAR  POE M* 


THE  POET  TO  THE  PEOPLE. 

Stand  off,  ye  vulgar,  nor  profane, 

With  bold,  unhallow’d  sounds,  this  festal  scene: 

In  hymns,  inspired  by  truth  divine, 

I,  priest  of  the  melodious  Nine, 

To  youths  and  virgins  sing  the  mystic  strain.  5 

TO  THE  CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS  AND  VIRGINS.  1 

Ph(ebus  taught  me  how  to  sing, 

How  to  tune  the  vocal  string; 

Phcehps  made  me  known  to  fame, 

Honour’d  with  a  poet’s  name. 

Noble  youths,  and  virgins  fair,  10 

Chaste  Diana’s  guardian  care, 

(Goddess,  whose  unerring  dart 
Stops  the  lynx,  or  flying  hart,) 

Mark  the  Lesbian  measures  well, 

Where  they  fall,  and  where  they  swell,  15 
And  in  varied  cadence  sing, 

As  I  strike  the  changing-string. 

To  the  god,  who  gilds  the  skies, 

Let  the  solemn  numbers  rise  ; 

Solemn  sing  the  queen  of  night,  20 

And  her  crescent’s  bending  light, 

Which  adown  the  fruitful  year 
Rolls  the  months  in  prone  career. 

*  The  celebration  of  the  secular  games  was  distinguished  by 
the  solemnity  of  three  great  festivals,  which  were  divided  in 
their  institution,  but  by  degrees  became  united,  and  formed  one 
entertainment,  which  continued  three  days  and  three  nights 
successively. 


196 


HORACE. 


Soon  upon  her  bridal  day, 

Thus  the  joyful  maid  shall  say,  25 

When  the  great  revolving  year 
Bade  the  festal  morn  appear, 

High  the  vocal  hymn  I  raised, 

And  the  listening  gods  were  pleased  ; 

All  the  vocal  hymn  divine,  30 

Horace,  tuneful  bard,  was  thine. 

FIRST  CONCERT.— HYMN  TO  APOLLO. 

CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS  AND  VIRGINS. 

Tityus,  with  impious  lust  inspired, 

By  chaste  Latona’s  beauties  fired, 

Thy  wrath,  oh  Phoebus,  tried  ; 

And  Niobe,  of  tongue  profane,  35 

Deplored  her  numerous  offspring  slain, 

Sad  victims  of  their  mother’s  pride. 

Achilles  too,  the  son  of  fame, 

Though  sprung  from  Thetis,  sea-born  dame, 

And  first  of  men  in  fight,  40 

Though  warring  with  tremendous  spear 
He  shook  the  Trojan  towers  with  fear, 

Yet  bow’d  to  thy  superior  might ; 

The  cypress,  when  by  storms  impell’d, 

Or  pine,  by  biting  axes  fell’d,  45 

Low  bends  the  towering  head  : 

So  falling  on  th’  ensanguined  plain, 

By  your  unerring  arrow  slain, 

His  mighty  bulk  the  hero  spread. 

He  had  not  Priam’s  heedless  court,  50 

Dissolved  in  wine,  and  festal  sport, 

With  midnight  art  surprised  ; 

But  bravely  bold,  of  open  force, 

Had  proudly  scorn’d  Minerva’s  horse, 

And  all  its  holy  cheat  despised ; 


55 


THE  SECULAR  POEM. 


197 


Then  arm’d,  alas !  with  horrors  dire, 
Wide-wasting  with  resistless  ire, 

Into  the  flames  had  thrown 
Infants,  upon  whose  faltering  tongue 
Their  words  in  formless  accent  hung,  60 

Infants  to  life  and  light  unknown  : 

But  charm’d  by  beauty’s  queen  and  thee, 

The  sire  of  gods,  with  just  decree 
Assenting,  shook  the  skies  ; 

That  Troy  should  change  th’  imperial  seat,  65 
And  guided  by  a  better  fate, 

Glorious  in  distant  realms  should  rise. 

Oh  !  may  the  god,  who  could  inspire 
With  living  sounds  the  Grecian  lyre, 

In  Xanthus’  lucid  stream  70 

Who  joys  to  bathe  his  flowing  hair, 

Now  make  the  Latian  muse  his  care, 

And  powerful  guard  her  rising  fame ! 

SECOND  CONCERT. 

CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS. 

Ye  virgins,  sing  Diana’s  praise. 

CHORUS  OF  VIRGINS. 

Ye  boys,  let  youthful  Phoebus  crown  your  lays.  75 

THE  TWO  CHOIRS. 

Together  let  us  raise  the  voice 
To  her,  beloved  by  Jove  supreme 
Let  fair  Latona  be  the  theme,  mmnfthe 
Our  tuneful  theme,  his  beauteous  choice. 

CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS. 

Ye  virgins,  sing  Diana’s  fame. 

Who  bathes  delighted  in  the  limpid  stream ; 

R  2 


80 


198 


HORACE. 


Dark  Erymanthus’  awful  groves, 

The  woods,  that  Algidus  o’erspread, 

Or  wave  on  Cragus’  verdant  head, 

Joyous  th’  immortal  huntress  loves.  85 

CHORUS  OF  VIRGINS. 

Ye  boys,  with  equal  honour  sing 
Fair  Tempe  clothed  with  ever-blooming  spring ; 
Then  hail  the  Delian  birth  divine, 

Whose  shoulders,  beaming  heavenly  fire, 
Graced  with  his  brother’s  warbling  lyre,  90 
And  with  the  golden  quiver  shine. 

CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS  AND  VIRGINS. 

Moved  by  the  solemn  voice  of  prayer, 

They  both  shall  make  imperial  Rome  their  care, 

And  gracious  turn  the  direful  woes 

Of  famine  and  of  weeping  war  95 

From  Rome,  from  sacred  Caesar  far, 

And  pour  them  on  our  British  foes. 


THIRD  CONCERT.— TO  APOLLO  AND  DIANA. 

CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS  AND  VIRGINS. 

Ye  radiant  glories  of  the  skies, 

Ever-beaming  god  of  light, 

Sweetly  shining  queen  of  night,  100 

Beneath  whose  wrath  the  wood-born  savage  dies ; 
Ye  powers,  to  whom  with  ceaseless  praise 
A  grateful  world  its  homage  pays, 

Let  our  prayer,  our  prayer  be  heard, 

Now  in  this  solemn  hour  preferr’d ;  105 

When  by  the  sibyl’s  dread  command, 

Of  spotless  maids  a  chosen  train, 

Of  spotless  youths  a  chosen  band, 

To  all  our  guardian  gods  uplift  the  hallow’d  strain. 


THE  SECULAR  POEM. 


199 


CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS. 

Fair  sun,  who  with  unchanging  beam  110 
Rising  another  and  the  same, 

Dost  from  thy  beamy  car  unfold 
The  glorious  day, 

Or  hide  it  in  thy  setting  ray, 

Of  light  and  life  immortal  source,  115 

Mayst  thou,  in  all  thy  radiant  course, 

Nothing  more  great  than  seven-hill’d  Rome  behold ! 

*  i  . 

CHORUS  OF  VIRGINS. 

Goddess  of  the  natal  hour, 

Or  if  other  name  more  dear, 

Propitious  power,  120 

Can  charm  your  ear, 

Our  pregnant  matrons  gracious  hear  ; 

With  lenient  hand  their  pangs  compose, 

Heal  their  agonizing  throes  ; 

Give  the  springing  birth  to  light,  125 

And  with  every  genial  grace, 

Prolific  of  an  endless  race, 

Oh!  crown  our  marriage  laws,  and  bless  the  nuptial 
rite ! 

CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS  AND  VIRGINS. 

That  when  the  circling  years  complete 
Again  this  awful  season  bring,  130 

Thrice  with  the  day’s  revolving  light, 

Thrice  beneath  the  shades  of  night, 

In  countless  bands  our  youthful  choirs  may  sing 
These  festal  hymns,  these  pious  games  repeat. 

Ye  fates,  from  whom  unerring  flows  135 

The  word  of  truth;  whose  firm  decree 
Its  stated  bounds  and  order  knows, 
Wide-spreading  through  eternity, 

With  guardian  care  around  us  wait, 

And  with  successive  glories  crown  the  state.  140 


200 


HORACE. 


Let  earth  her  various  fruitage  yield, 

Her  living  verdure  spread, 

And  form,  amid  the  waving  field, 

A  sheafy  crown  for  Ceres’  head  ; 

Fall  genial  showers,  and  o’er  our  fleecy  care  145 
May  Jove  indulgent  breathe  his  purest  air ! 

CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS. 

Phoebus,  whose  kindly  beams  impart 
Health  and  gladness  to  the  heart, 

While  in  its  quiver  lies  the  pestilential  dart, 
Thy  youthful  suppliants  hear :  150 

»  , 

CHORUS  OF  VIRGINS. 

Queen  of  the  stars,  who  rul’st  the  night 
In  horned  majesty  of  light, 

Bend  to  thy  virgins  a  propitious  ear. 

CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS  AND  VIRGINS. 

If,  ye  gods,  the  Roman  state 
Was  form’d  by  your  immortal  power ;  155 

Or  if,  to  change  th’  imperial  seat, 

And  other  deities  adore, 

Beneath  your  guidance  the  Dardanian  host 
Pour’d  forth  their  legions  on  the  Tuscan  coast ; 

For  whom  Aeneas,  through  the  fire,  160 

In  which  he  saw  his  Troy  expire, 

A  passage  open’d  to  a  happier  clime, 

Where  they  might  nobler  triumphs  gain, 

And  to  never-ending  time 
With  boundless  empire  reign.  165 

Ye  gods,  inform  our  docile  youth 
With  early  principles  of  truth ; 

Ye  gods,  indulge  the  waning  days 
Of  silver’d  age  with  placid  ease, 

And  grant  to  Rome  an  endless  race,  170 

Treasure  immense,  and  every  sacred  grace. 


THE  SECULAR  POEM.  201 ‘ 

The  prince,  who  owes  to  beauty’s  queen  his  birth, 
Who  bids  the  snowy  victim’s  blood 
Pour  forth  to-day  its  purple  flood, 

Oh !  may  he  glorious  rule  the  conquer’d  earth !  175 
But  yet  a  milder  glory  show 
In  mercy  to  the  prostrate  foe. 

Already  the  fierce  Mede  his  arms  reveres, 

Which  wide  extend  th’  imperial  sway, 

And  bid  th’  unwilling  world  obey;  180 

The  haughty  Indian  owns  his  fears, 

And  Scythians,  doubtful  of  their  doom, 

Await  the  dread  resolves  of  Rome. 

Faith,  Honour,  Peace,  celestial  maid, 

And  Modesty,  in  ancient  guise  array’d,  185 

And  Virtue  (with  unhallow’d  scorn 
Too  long  neglected)  now  appear, 

While  Plenty  fills  her  bounteous  horn, 

And  pours  her  blessings  o’er  the  various  year. 

CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS. 

If  the  prophetic  power  divine,  190 

Famed  for  the  golden  bow  and  quiver’d  dart, 

Who  knows  to  charm  the  listening  Nine, 

And  feeble  mortals  raise  with  healing  art ; 

If  he  with  gracious  eye  survey  the  towers, 

Where  Rome  his  deity  adores,  195 

Oh  !  let  each  era  still  presage 
Increase  of  happiness  from  age  to  age  ! 

CHORUS  OF  VIRGINS. 

Oh !  may  Diana,  on  these  favourite  hills 
Whose  diffusive  presence  fills 

Her  hallow’d  fane,  200 

Propitious  deign 
Our  holy  priests  to  hear, 

And  to  our  youth  incline  her  willing  ear ! 


202 


HORACE. 


CHORUS  OF  YOUTHS  AND  VIRGINS. 

Lo !  we  the  chosen,  youthful  choir, 

Taught  with  harmonious  voice  to  raise 
Apollo’s  and  Diana’s  praise, 

In  full  and  certain  hope  retire, 

That  all  th’  assembled  gods,  and  sovereign  Jove 
These  pious  vows,  these  choral  hymns  approve 


j 


205 


i 


V 


» 


THE  SATIRES 


v 


BOOK  I. 

SATIRE  I.— TO  MAECENAS. 

The  object  of  this  satire  is  to  show  that  all,  but  especially  the 
covetous,  think  their  own  condition  the  hardest. 

Maecenas,  what’s  the  cause,  that  no  man  lives 
Contented  with  the  lot  which  reason  gives, 

Or  chance  presents ;  yet  all  with  envy  view 
The  schemes  that  others  variously  pursue  % 

Broken  with  toils,  with  ponderous  arms  oppress’d, 
The  soldier  thinks  the  merchant  solely  bless’d.  6 
In  opposite  extreme ;  when  tempests  rise, 

War  is  a  better  choice,  the  merchant  cries  ; 

The  battle  joins,  and,  in  a  moment’s  flight, 

Death,  or  a  joyful  conquest  ends  the  fight.  10 

When  early  clients  thunder  at  his  gate 
The  barrister  applauds  the  rustic’s  fate ; 

While,  by  subpoenas  dragg’d  from  home,  the  clown 
Thinks  they  alone  are  bless’d  who  live  in  town. 

But  every  various  instance  to  repeat  15 

Would  tire  even  Fabius,  of  eternal  prate. 

Not  to  be  tedious,  mark  the  general  aim 
Of  these  examples — should  some  god  proclaim, 

“  Your  prayers  are  heard ;  you,  soldier,  to  your  seas ; 
You,  lawyer,  take  that  envied  rustic’s  ease  ;  20 

Each  to  his  several  part — what !  ha !  not  move 
E’en  to  the  bliss  you  wish’d !”  And  shall  not  Jove 
Swell  both  his  cheeks  with  anger,  and  forswear 
His  weak  indulgence  to  their  future  prayer  1 
But  not  to  treat  my  subject  as  in  jest,  25 

(Yet  may  not  truth  in  laughing  guise  be  dress’d  1 
As  masters  fondly  sooth  their  boys  to  read 
With  cakes  and  sweetmeats,)  let  us  now  proceed  : 
With  graver  air  our  serious  theme  pursue, 

And  yet  preserve  our  moral  full  in  view.  30 

Hor,  Vol.  I. — S 


206 


HORACE. 


Who  turns  the  soil,  and  o’er  the  ploughshare  bends ; 
He,  who  adulterates  the  laws,  and  vends ; 

The  soldier,  and  th’  adventurers  of  the  main, 
Profess  their  various  labours  they  sustain, 

A  decent  competence  for  age  to  raise,  35 

And  then  retire  to  indolence  and  ease. 

JVIiser.  For  thus  the  little  ant  (to  human  lore 
No  mean  example)  forms  her  frugal  store, 

Gather’d  with  mighty  toil,  on  every  side, 

Nor  ignorant,  nor  careless  to  provide  40 

For  future  want —  Horace.  Yet  when  the  stars 
appear, 

That  darkly  sadden  the  declining  year, 

No  more  she  comes  abroad,  but  wisely  lives 
On  the  fair  store  industrious  summer  gives. 

For  thee,  nor  summer’s  heat,  nor  winter’s  cold,  45 
Fire,  sea,  nor  sword,  stop  thy  pursuit  of  gold ; 
Nothing  can  break  th’  adventurous,  bold  design, 

So  none  possess  a  larger  sum  than  thine. 

But,  prithee,  whence  the  pleasure,  thus  by  stealth 
Deep  in  the  earth  to  hide  thy  weight  of  wealth  1  50 
M.  One  farthing  lessen’d,  you  the  mass  reduce. 
H.  And  if  not  lessen’d,  whence  can  rise  its  use  ? 
What  though  you  thresh  a  thousand  sacks  of  grain, 
No  more  than  mine  thy  stomach  can  contain. 

The  slave,  who  bears  the  load  of  bread,  shall  eat  55 
No  more  than  he  who  never  felt  the  weight. 

Or  say,  what  difference,  if  we  live  confined 
Within  the  bounds  by  nature’s  laws  assign’d. 
Whether  a  thousand  acres  of  demain, 

Or  one  poor  hundred,  yield  sufficient  grain!  60 
M.  Oh!  but  ’tis  sweet  to  take  from  larger  hoards. 
H.  Yet,  if  my  little  heap  as  much  affords, 

Why  shall  your  granaries  be  valued  more 
Than  my  small  hampers,  with  their  frugal  store ! 

You  want  a  cask  of  water,  or  would  fill  65 

An  ample  goblet ;  whence  the  froward  will 
To  choose  a  mighty  river’s  rapid  course, 

Before  this  little  fountain’s  lenient  source  ? 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE  I. 


207 


But  mark  his  fate,  insatiate  who  desires 

Deeper  to  drink  than  nature’s  thirst  requires ;  70 

With  its  torn  banks  the  torrent  bears  away 

Th’  intemperate  wretch;  while  he,  who  would  allay 

With  healthy  draughts  his  thirst,  shall  drink  secure, 

Fearless  of  death,  and  quaff  his  water  pure. 

Some,  self-deceived,  who  think  their  lust  of  gold  75 
Is  but  a  love  of  fame,  this  maxim  hold, 

No  fortune’s  large  enough,  since  others  rate 
Your  worth  proportion’d  to  a  large  estate. 

Say,  for  their  cure  what  arts  would  you  employ? 

“  Let  them  be  wretched,  and  their  choice  enjoy.”  80 

At  Athens  lived  a  wight,  in  days  of  yore, 

Though  miserably  rich,  yet  fond  of  more, 

But  of  intrepid  spirit  to  despise 
Th’  abusive  crowd.  “  Let  them  hiss  on,”  he  cries, 
“  While,  in  my  own  opinion  fully  bless’d,  85 

I  count  my  money,  and  enjoy  my  chest.” 

Burning  with  thirst,  when  Tantalus  would  quaff 
The  flying  waters — wherefore  do  you  laugh? 
Change  but  the  name,  of  thee  the  tale  is  told, 

With  open  mouth  when  dosing  o’er  your  gold.  90 
On  every  side  the  numerous  bags  are  piled, 

Whose  hallow’d  stores  must  never  be  defiled 
To  human  use ;  while  you  transported  gaze, 

As  if,  like  pictures,  they  were  form’d  to  please. 

Would  you  the  real  use  of  riches  know  ?  95 

Bread,  herbs,  and  wine  are  all  they  can  bestow. 

Or  add,  what  nature’s  deepest  wants  supplies  ;  , 
This,  and  no  more,  thy  mass  of  money  buys. 

But,  with  continual  watching  almost  dead, 
House-breaking  thieves,  and  midnight  fires  to  dread, 
Or  the  suspected  slave’s  untimely  flight  101 

With  the  dear  pelf ;  if  this  bo  thy  delight, 

Be  it  my  fate,  so  Heaven  in  bounty  please, 

Still  to  be  poor  of  blessings  such  as  these  ! 

M.  If,  by  a  cold  some  painful  illness  bred,  105 
Or  other  chance  confine  you  to  your  bed, 


208 


HORACE. 


Your  wealth  shall  purchase  some  good-natured  friend 
Your  cordials  to  prepare,  your  couch  attend, 

And  urge  the  doctor  to  preserve  your  life, 

And  give  you  to  your  children  and  your  wife.  110 
H.  Nor  wife,  nor  son,  that  hated  life  would  save, 
While  all,  who  know  thee,  wish  thee  in  the  grave. 
And  canst  thou  wonder  that  they  prove  unkind, 
When  all  thy  passions  are  to  gold  confined  1 

Nature,  ’tis  true,  in  each  relation  gave  115 

A  friend  sincere  ;  yet  what  you  thus  receive, 

If  you  imagine,  with  unfeeling  heart, 

&nd  careless  manners  to  preserve,  your  art 
As  well  may  teach  an  ass  to  scour  the  plain, 

And  bend  obedient  to  the  forming  rein.  120 

Yet  somewhere  should  your  views  of  lucre  cease 
Nor  let  your  fears  of  poverty  increase, 

As  does  your  wealth  ;  for  since  you  now  possess 
Your  utmost  wish,  your  labour  should  be  less. 

Ummidius  once  (the  tale  is  quickly  told)  125 
So  wondrous  rich  he  measured  out  his  gold, 

Yet  never  dress’d  him  better  than  a  slave, 

Afraid  of  starving  ere  he  reach’d  his  grave  : 

But  a  bold  wench,  of  right  virago  strain, 

Cleft  with  an  axe  the  wretched  wight  in  twain.  130 
M.  By  your  advice  what  party  shall  I  take  1 
Like  Maenius  live  a  prodigal,  and  rake 
Like  Nomentanusl  H.  Why  will  you  pretend, 
With  such  extremes,  your  conduct  to  defend  1 
The  sordid  miser  when  I  justly  blame,  135 

I  would  not  have  you  prodigal  of  fame, 

Spendthrift  or  rake  ;  for  sure  some  difference  lies 
Between  the  very  fool  and  very  wise : 

Some  certain  mean  in  all  things  may  be  found, 

To  mark  our  virtues’  and  our  vices’  bound.  -  140 

But  to  return  from  whence  we  have  digress’d. 
And  is  the  miser,  then,  alone  unbless’dl 
Does  he  alone  applaud  his  neighbour’s  fate, 

Or  pine  with  envy  of  his  happier  state  1 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE  III.  209 

To  crowds  beneath  him  never  turn  his  eye,  145 
Where  in  distress  the  sons  of  virtue  lie, 

But,  to  outspeed  the  wealthy,  bend  his  force, 

As  if  they  stopp’d  his  own  impetuous  course  ? 

Thus,  from  the  goal  when  swift  the  chariot  flies, 
The  charioteer  the  bending  lash  applies,  150 

To  overtake  the  foremost  on  the  plain, 

But  looks  on  all  behind  him  with  disdain. 

From  hence,  how  few,  like  sated  guests,  depart 
From  life’s  full  banquet  with  a  cheerful  heart  l 

But  let  me  stop,  lest  you  suspect  I  stole  155 
From  blind  Crispinus  this  eternal  scroll. 

153  There  are  few  people,  says  Epicurus,  who  do  not  go  out 
of  life,  as  if  they  were  just  come  into  it ;  whence  their  lives,  as 
Lucretius  expresses  it,  are  always  imperfect.  Perhaps  our  poet 
had  in  view  an  expression  of  Aristotle.  “We  should  go  out  of 
life,  as  we  ought  to  rise  from  a  banquet,  neither  thirsty  nor  full 
of  wine.” 


SATIRE  III. — TO  MAECENAS. 

The  poet  here  asserts  that  we  ought  to  connive  at  the  faults 
of  our  friends,  since  all  errors  are  not  to  be  ranked  in  the 
catalogue  of  crimes. 

With  this  one  vice  all  songsters  are  possess’d  ; 

Sing  they  can  never  at  a  friend’s  request-, 

Yet  chant  it  forth,  unask’d,  from  morn  till  night — 
This  vice  Tigellius  carried  to  its  height. 

Caesar,  who  might  command  in  firmer  tone,  5 

If,  by  his  father’s  friendship  and  his  own, 

He  ask’d  a  song,  was  sure  to  ask  in  vain, 

Yet,  when  the  whim  prevail’d,  in  endless  strain 
Through  the  whole  feast  the  jovial  catch  he  plies, 
From  bass  to  treble  o’er  the  gamut  flies.  10 

Nothing  was  firm,  or  constant,  in  the  man ; 

He  sometimes,  like  a  frighted  coward  ran, 

Whose  foes  are  at  his  heels ;  then  solemn  stalk’d, 
As  if  at  Juno’s  festival  he  walk’d. 

Now  with  two  hundred  slaves  he  crowds  his  train ;  15 
Now  walks  with  ten.  In  high  and  haughty  strain 

S2 


210 


HORACE. 


At  morn,  of  tetrarchs,  and  of  kings  he  prates ; 

At  night — “  A  three-legg’d  table,  oh  ye  fates  ! 

A  little  shell  the  sacred  salt  to  hold, 

And  clothes,  though  coarse  to  keep  me  from  the  cold.” 
Yet  give  the  man,  thus  frugal,  thus  content,  21 
Ten  thousand  pounds,  and  every  shilling’s  spent 
In  five  short  days.  He  drank  the  night  away 
Till  rising  dawn,  then  snored  out  all  the  day. 

Sure  such  a  various  creature  ne’er  was  known.  25 
“  Has  Horace,  then,  no  vices  of  his  own!” 

That  I  have  vices,  frankly  I  confess, 

But  of  a  different  kind,  and  somewhat  less. 

Moenius,  behind  his  back,  at  Novius  rail’d, 

“  What !  don’t  you  know  yourself,  or  think  con¬ 
ceal’d  30 

From  us,  who  know  you,  what  a  life  you  live  !” 
Maenius  replies,  Indulgent  I  forgive 
The  follies  I  commit.  This  foolish  love, 

And  criminal,  our  censure  should  reprove  ; 

For  wherefore,  while  you  carelessly  pass  by  35 
Your  own  worst  vices  with  unheeding  eye, 

Why  so  sharp-sighted  in  another’s  fame, 

Strong  as  an  eagle’s  ken,  or  dragon’s  beam  ? 

But  know,  that  he  with  equal  spleen  shall  view, 

With  equal  rigour  shall  your  faults  pursue.  40 
Your  friend  is  passionate;  perhaps  unfit 
For  the  brisk  petulance  of  modern  wit. 

His  hair  ill  cut,  his  robe,  that  awkward  flows, 

Or  his  large  shoes  to  raillery  expose 
The  man  you  love ;  yet  is  he  not  possess’d  45 
Of  virtues,  with  which  very  few  are  bless’d  1 
While  underneath  this  rude,  uncouth  disguise 
A  genius  of  extensive  knowledge  lies. 

Search  your  own  breast,  and  mark  with  honest  care 
What  seeds  of  folly  nature  planted  there,  50 

Or  custom  raised  ;  for  an  uncultured  field 
Shall  for  the  fire  its  thorns  and  thistles  yield. 

And  yet  a  shorter  method  we  may  find, 

As  lovers,  to  their  fair  one  fondly  blind 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE  III. 


211 


Even  on  her  foulness  can  delighted  gaze  ;  55 

For  Hagne’s  wen  can  good  Balbinus  please. 

Oh !  were  our  weakness  to  our  friends  the  same, 
And  stamp’d  by  virtue  with  some  honour’d  name  ! 

Nor  should  we  to  their  faults  be  more  severe 
Than  an  indulgent  father  to  his  heir ;  60 

If  with  distorted  eyes  the  urchin  glares, 

“  Oh  !  the  dear  boy,  how  prettily  he  stares  !” 

Is  he  of  dwarfish  and  abortive  size  1 
“  Sweet  little  moppet !”  the  fond  father  cries: 

Or  is  th’  unshapen  cub  deform’d  and  lame  1  65 

He  kindly  lisps  him  o’er  some  tender  name. 

Thus,  if  your  friend’s  too  frugally  severe, 

Let  him  a  wise  economist  appear. 

Is  he,  perhaps,  impertinent  and  vain  1 
“  The  pleasant  creature  means  to  entertain.”  70 
Is  he  too  free  to  prate,  or  frankly  rude  1 
“  ’Tis  manly  plainness  all,  and  fortitude.” 

Is  he  too  warm  1  “  No  :  spirited  and  bold.” 

Thus  shall  we  gain  new  friends,  and  keep  the  old. 
But  we  distort  their  virtue  to  a  crime,  75 

And  joy  th’  untainted  vessel  to  begrime. 

Have  we  a  modest  friend,  and  void  of  art  ? 

“  He’s  a  fat-headed  wretch,  and  cold  of  heart !” 
While  we  converse  with  an  ill-natured  age, 

Where  calumny  and  envy  lawless  rage,  80 

Is  there  a  man,  by  long  experience  wise, 

Still  on  his  guard,  nor  open  to  surprise  1 
His  cautious  wisdom  and  prudential  fear 
Shall  artifice  and  false  disguise  appear. 

If  any  one  of  simple,  thoughtless  kind,  85 

(Such  as  you  oft  your  careless  poet  find,) 

Who  life’s  politer  manners  never  knew, 

If,  while  we  read,  or  some  fond  scheme  pursue, 

75  The  poet  has  chosen  for  an  example  of  this  truth  three 
virtues,  probity,  prudence,  and  simplicity.  By  the  last  he  un¬ 
derstands  a  frankness  in  our  actions,  which  frequently  passes 
over  the  decencies  of  life,  rather  through  inattention  than  un¬ 
politeness. — San. 


212 


HORACE. 


He  tease  us  with  his  mere  impertinence, 

We  cry,  the  creature  wants  even  common  sense.  90 
Alas  !  what  laws,  of  how  severe  a  strain, 

Against  ourselves  we  thoughtlessly  ordain  1 
For  we  have  all  our  vices,  and  the  best 
Is  he  who  with  the  fewest  is  oppress’d. 

A  kinder  friend,  who  balances  my  good  95 

And  bad  together,  as  in  truth  he  should, 

If  haply  my  good  qualities  prevail, 

Inclines  indulgent  to  the  sinking  scale. 

For  like  indulgence  let  his  errors  plead, 

His  merits  be  with  equal  measure  weigh’d ;  100 

For  he,  who  hopes  his  bile  shall  not  offend, 

Should  overlook  the  pimples  of  his  friend  ; 

And  even  in  justice  to  his  own  defects, 

At  least  should  grant  the  pardon  he  expects. 

But,  since  we  never  from  the  breast  of  fools  105 
Can  root  their  passions,  yet,  while  reason  rules, 

Let  it  hold  forth  its  scales  with  equal  hand, 

Justly  to  punish,  as  the  crimes  demand. 

If  a  poor  slave,  who  takes  away  your  plate, 

Lick  the  warm  sauce,  or  half-cold  fragments  eat,  110 
Yet  should  you  crucify  the  wretch,  we  swear 
Not  Labeo’s  madness  can  with  yours  compare. 

Is  the  crime  less,  or  less  the  want  of  sense, 

Thus  to  resent  a  trivial,  slight  offence  ! 

Forgive  the  man  you  loved,  or  you’ll  appear  115 
Of  joyless  kind,  ill-natured  and  severe  ; 

Yet  you  detest  him,  and  with  horror  shun, 

As  debtors  from  the  ruthless  Ruso  run, 

Who  damns  the  wretches  on  th’  appointed  day 
His  interest  or  principal  to  pay,  120 

Or  else,  like  captives,  stretch  the  listening  ear 
His  tedious  tales  of  history  to  hear. 

A  friend  has  foul’d  my  couch:  ah  !  deep  disgrace  ! 
Or  off  the  table  thrown  some  high-wrought  vase  ; 

118  This  Ruso  was  a  double  torment  to  the  poor  people  who 
borrowed  money  of  him.  He  ruined  them  by  extortion,  and 
read  them  to  death  by  his  works. 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE  III.  213 

Or,  hungry,  snatch’d  a  chicken  off  my  plate  ;  125 

Shall  I  for  this  a  good  companion  hate? 

What  if  he  robb’d  me,  or  his  trust  betray’d, 

Or  broke  the  sacred  promise  he  had  made  ? 

Who  hold  all  crimes  alike,  are  deep  distress’d 
When  we  appeal  to  truth’s  impartial  test.  130 
Sense,  custom,  social  good,  from  whence  arise 
All  forms  of  right  and  wrong,  the  fact  denies. 

When  the  first  mortals  crawling  rose  to  birth, 
Speechless  and  wretched,  from  their  mother-earth, 
For  caves — and  acorns,  then  the  food  of  life —  135 
With  nails  and  fists  they  held  a  bloodless  strife  ; 

But  soon  improved,  with  clubs  they  bolder  fought, 
And  various  arms,  which  sad  experience  wrought ; 
Till  words,  to  fix  the  wandering  voice  were  found, 
And  name  impress’d  a  meaning  upon  sound.  140 
Thenceforth  they  cease  from  war ;  their  towns  in¬ 
close 

With  formidable  walls,  and  laws  compose 
To  strike  the  thief  and  highwaymen  with  dread. 
And  vindicate  the  sacred  marriage  bed. 

For  woman,  long  ere  Helen’s  fatal  charms,  145 
Destructive  woman  !  set  the  world  in  arms  • 

But  the  first  heroes  died  unknown  to  fame, 

Like  beasts  who  ravish’d  the  uncertain  dame: 

When,  as  the  stoutest  bull  commands  the  rest, 

The  weaker  by  the  stronger  was  oppress’d.  150 
Turn  o’er  the  world’s  great  annals,  and  you  find 
That  laws  were  first  invented  by  mankind 
To  stop  oppression’s  rage  ;  for  though  we  learn, 

By  nature,  good  from  evil  to  discern; 

What  we  should  wise  pursue,  or  cautious  fly;  155 
Yet  can  she  never,  with  a  constant  eye, 

131  Horace  endeavours  to  prove,  according  to  the  doctrine  of 
Epicurus,  that  justice  and  injustice  arise  only  from  laws  ;  and 
that  laws  have  no  other  foundation  than  public  utility,  by  which 
he  means  the  happiness  of  civil  society.  On  the  contrary,  the 
stoics  asserted  that  justice  and  injustice  have  their  first  princi¬ 
ples  in  nature  itself,  and  the  first  appearance  of  reason  in  the 
mind  of  man. — San. 


214 


HORACE. 


Of  legal  justice  mark  each  nice  extreme  ; 

Nor  can  right  reason  prove  the  crime  the  same, 

To  rob  a  garden,  or,  by  fear  unawed, 

To  steal  by  night  the  sacred  things  of.  God.  160 
Then  let  the  punishment  be  fairly  weigh’d 
Against  the  crime ;  nor  let  the  wretch  be  flay’d, 
Who  scarce  deserved  the  lash.  I  cannot  fear 
That  you  shall  prove  too  tenderly  severe, 

While  you  assert  all  vices  are  the  same,  165 

And  threaten,  that  were  yours  the  power  supreme, 
Robbers  and  thieves  your  equal  rage  should  feel, 
Uprooted  by  the  same  avenging  steel. 

If  your  wise  man’s  a  shoemaker  profess’d, 
Handsome  and  rich,  of  monarchy  possess’d,  170 
W'hy  wish  for  what  you  have  1  Stoic.  Yet  hold,  my 
friend, 

And  better  to  the  stoic’s  sense  attend. 

For  though  the  wife  nor  shoes,  nor  slippers  made, 
He’s  yet  a  skilful  shoemaker  by  trade  ; 

Thus,  though  Hermogenes  may  sing  no  more,  175 
He  knows  the  whole  extent  of  music’s  power; 
Alfenus  thus,  turn’d  lawyer  in  his  pride, 

His  shop  shut  up,  his  razors  thrown  aside, 

Was  still  a  barber:  so  the  wise  alone 

Is  of  all  trades,  though  exercising  none,  180 

And  reigns  a  monarch,  though  without  a  throne. 

Horace.  Great  king  of  kings !  unless  you  drive  away 
This  pressing  crowd,  the  boys  in  wanton  play 
Will  pluck  you  by  the  beard,  while  you  shall  growl, 
Wretch  as  thou  art,  and  burst  in  spleen  of  soul.  185 
In  short,  while  in  a  farthing  bath  you  reign, 

With  only  one  poor  life-guard  in  your  train ; 

While  the  few  friends,  with  whom  I  joy  to  live, 

Fool  as  I  am,  my  follies  can  forgive, 

184  To  pluck  a  man  by  the  beard,  was  such  an  indignity, 
that  it  gave  rise  to  a  proverb  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans. 
The  stoic  philosophers  were  usually  treated  with  this  kind  of 
contempt,  to  insult  their  pretended  wisdom,  and  to  put  them  to 
the  proof  of  their  boasted  patience. 

189  We  ought,  says  Epictetus,  to  extenuate  an  injury  com- 


BOOK  I. — SATIRE  IV. 


215 


I  will  to  them  the  same  indulgence  show,  190 
And  bliss  like  mine  thy  kingship  ne’er  shall  know. 

SATIRE  IV. 

Horace  apologizes  for  the  liberties  taken  by  satiric  poets  in 
general,  and  particularly  by  himself. 

The  comic  poets,  in  its  earliest  age 

Who  form’d  the  manners  of  the  Grecian  stage, 

Was  there  a  villain,  who  might  justly  claim 
A  better  right  of  being  damn’d  to  fame, 

Rake,  cut-throat,  thief,  whatever  was  his  crime,  5 
They  freely  stigmatized  the  wretch  in  rhyme. 

From  their  example  whole  Lucilius  rose, 

Though  different  measures,  different  verse  he  chose. 
He  rallied  with  a  gay  and  easy  air  ; 

But  rude  his  numbers,  and  his  style  severe.  1C 
He  weakly  fancied  it  a  glorious  feat 
His  hundred  lines  extempore  to  repeat ; 

And  as  his  verses  like  a  torrent  roll, 

The  stream  runs  muddy,  and  the  water’s  foul. 

He  prattled  rhymes ;  but  lazy  and  unfit  16 

For  writing  well;  for  much,  I  own,  he  writ. 

Crispinus  thus  my  littleness  defies  ; 

“  Here,  make  the  smallest  bet,”  the  boaster  cries. 

mitted  against  us,  that  we  may  forgive  it  more  easily ;  and  to 
enlarge  our  own  mistakes,  that  we  may  correct  them,  and  re¬ 
pent  of  them. 

1  Comedy  was  divided  into  ancient  and  modern.  In  the  first 
the  subject  and  the  names  of  the  actors  were  real ;  in  the  sec¬ 
ond,  the  drama  was  formed  on  history,  but  the  names  of  the 
actors  were  invented;  in  the  third,  both  the  story  and  actors 
were  formed  by  the  poet. 

6  This  liberty  was  much  abused.  The  poets,  not  contented 
with  exposing  the  names  and  characters  of  the  persons  whom 
they  represented  on  the  stage,  made  them  almost  appear  them¬ 
selves  by  masks  drawn  with  the  utmost  resemblance.  Indeed 
we  are  to  expect  but  little  impartiality  from  satirists  of  any  age. 
Neither  the  virtue  of  Pericles  could  defend  him  from  the  viru¬ 
lence  of  Cratinus ;  nor  the  wisdom  of  Socrates  from  the  petu¬ 
lance  of  Aristophanes. 


216 


HORACE. 


Crispinus.  “  Pen,  ink,  and  paper ;  name  your  place 
and  time : 

Then  try,  friend  Flaccus,  who  can  fastest  rhyme.”  20 
Horace.  Thank  Heaven,  that  form’d  me  of  an  hum¬ 
bler  kind ; 

No  wit,  nor  yet  to  prattling  much  inclined, 

While  thou  shalt  imitate  the  winds,  that  blow 
From  lungs  of  leather,  till  the  metal  flow  ! 

Thrice  happy  Fannius,  of  his  own  free  grace,  25 
Who  in  Apollo’s  temple  hangs  his  face, 

And  gilds  his  works  to  view ;  while  I  with  fear 
Repeat  my  verses  to  the  public  ear  ; 

Because  by  few  such  works  as  mine  are  read, 
Conscious  of  meriting  the  lash  they  dread.  30 
Take  me  a  man,  at  venture,  from  the  crowd, 

And  he’s  ambitious,  covetous,  or  proud. 

One  burns  to  madness  for  the  wedded  dame  ; 
Intemperate  lusts  another’s  breast  inflame. 

The  silver  vase  with  pleasure  one  admires,  35 
While  Albius  o’er  a  bronze  antique  expires ; 

The  venturous  merchant,  from  the  rising  day 
To  regions  warm’d  beneath  the  setting  ray, 

Like  dust,  collected  by  a  whirlwind,  flies 

To  save  his  pelf,  or  bid  the  mass  arise.  40 

All  these  the  poet  dread,  his  rhymes  detest : 

“  Yonder  he  drives ;  avoid  that  furious  beast : 

If  he  may  have  his  jest,  he  never  cares 
At  whose  expense,  nor  his  best  friend  he  spares  ; 
And  if  he  once,  in  his  malignant  vein,  45 

The  cruel  paper  with  invectives  stain, 

The  slaves,  who  carry  water  through  the  street, 

To  his  charm’d  ear  his  verses  must  repeat.” 

Now  hear  this  short  defence.  For  my  own  part, 
I  claim  no  portion  of  the  poet’s  art.  50 

’Tis  not  enough  to  close  the  flowing  line, 

And  in  ten  syllables  your  sense  confine  ; 

37  The  navigation  of  the  Romans  was  usually  confined  to 
the  Mediterranean,  which  runs  east  and  west. 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE  IV. 


217 


Or  write  in  mere  prosaic  rhymes  like  me, 

That  can  deserve  the  name  of  poetry. 

Is  there  a  man,  whom  real  genius  fires,  55 

Whom  the  diviner  soul  of  verse  inspires  ; 

Who  talks  true  greatness  ;  let  him  boldly  claim 
The  sacred  honours  of  a  poet’s  name. 

Some  therefore  ask,  can  comedy  be  thought 
A  real  poem  since  it  may  be  wrought  60 

In  style  and  subject  without  fire  or  force, 

And,  bate  the  numbers,  is  but  mere  discourse. 

“  But  yet  in  passion’d  tone  the  sire  can  chide 
His  spendthrift  son,  who  spurns  the  portion’d  bride 
And  keeps  a  common  wench,  or  deep  in  drink  65 
Reels  in  fair  daylight  (shameful)  with  his  link.” 

Yet  could  Pomponius  from  his  father  hear, 

Were  he  alive,  a  lecture  less  severe  ? 

’Tis  not  enough  your  language  to  refine, 

When  if  you  break  the  measures  of  the  line,  70 
In  common  life  an  angry  father’s  rage 
Is  but  the  same  as  Demea’s  on  the  stage. 

Take  from  Lucilius’  verses,  or  from  mine, 

The  cadences  and  measures  of  the  line  ; 

Then  change  their  order,  and  the  words  transpose,  75 
No  more  the  scatter’d  poet’s  limbs  it  shows ; 

Not  so — when  hideous  discord  bursts  the  bars 
And  iron  gates,  to  pour  forth  all  her  wars. 

Of  this  enough  ;  some  future  work  shall  show 
Whether  ’tis  real  poetry  or  no.  80 

Now  tell  me,  whether  satire  should  appear, 

With  reason,  such  an  object  of  your  fear. 

Sulcius  and  Caprius,  fiercest  of  their  trade, 

Hoarse  with  the  virulence  with  which  they  plead, 
When  through  the  streets  they  stalk  with  libels  arm’d, 
Mark !  how  the  thieves  and  robbers  are  alarm’d ;  86 
But  yet  the  man  of  honest  hands  and  pure 
May  scorn  them  both,  in  innocence  secure; 

Or  though  like  Caclius  you  a  villain  be, 

I’m  no  informer.  Whence  you  fears  of  me  1  90 

Hor.  Vol.  I. — T 


218 


HORACE. 


With  printers  and  their  shops  I  never  deal ; 

No  rubric  pillar  sets  my  works  to  sale, 

O’er  which  the  hands  of  vulgar  readers  sweat, 

Or  whose  soft  strains  Tigellius  can  repeat. 

Even  by  my  friends  compell’d  I  read  my  lays,  95 
Nor  every  place,  nor  every  audience  please. 

Full  many  bards  the  public  forum  choose, 

Where  to  recite  the  labours  of  their  muse; 

Or  vaulted  baths,  that  best  preserve  the  sound, 
While  sweetly  floats  the  voice  in  echoes  round.  100 
The  coxcombs  never  think  at  whose  expense 
They  thus  indulge  the  dear  impertinence. 

“  But  you  in  libels,  mischievous,  delight, 

And  never,  but  in  spleen  of  genius,  write.” 

Is  there,  with  whom  I  live,  who  knows  my  heart,  105 
Who  taught  you  how  to  aim  this  venom’d  dart! 

He,  who  malignant  tears  an  absent  friend, 

Or,  when  attack’d  by  others,  don’t  defend  ; 

Who  trivial  bursts  of  laughter  strives  to  raise, 

And  courts  of  prating  petulance  the  praise  ;  110 

Of  things  he  never  saw  who  tells  his  tale, 

And  friendship’s  secrets  knows  not  to  conceal, 

This  man  is  vile ;  here,  Roman,  fix  your  mark  ; 

His  soul  is  black,  as  his  complexion’s  dark. 

At  tables,  crowded  with  a  dozen  guests,  115 
Some  one  shall  scatter  round  his  frigid  jests, 

And  only  spare  his  host,  until  the  bowl, 

Fair  friend  of  truth,  unlocks  his  inmost  soul; 

Yet,  though  a  cruel  joker  you  detest, 

He  seems  a  courteous,  well-bred,  easy  guest.  120 
But  if  in  idle  raillery  I  said, 

Rufillus  with  perfumes  distracts  my  head. 

While  foul  Gargonius  breathes  a  ranker  air, 

You  think  me  most  envenom’d  and  severe. 

If  we,  by  chance,  that  thief  Petilius  name,  125 
You,  as  vour  custom  is,  defend  his  fame. 


125  The  ancient  commentator  tells  us  that  Petilius  was  gov¬ 
ernor  of  the  capitol,  from  whence  he  was  called  Capitolinus ; 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE  IV. 

“  Petilius  is  my  friend ;  from  early  youth 
Cheerful  we  lived  together,  and  in  truth 
I  have  been  much  indebted  to  his  power, 

And  1  rejoice  to  find  his  danger  o’er. 

But,  in  the  name  of  wonder  be  it  said, 

At  that  same  trial  how  he  saved  his  head.” 

Such  rancour  this,  of  such  a  poisonous  vein, 

As  never,  never  shall  my  paper  stain  ; 

Much  less  infect  my  heart,  if  I  may  dare 
For  my  own  heart,  in  anything,  to  swear. 

Yet  some  indulgence  I  may  justly  claim, 

If  too  familiar  with  another’s  fame. 

The  best  of  fathers,  on  my  youthful  breast 
The  detestation  of  a  vice  impress’d 
By  strong  examples.  Would  he  have  me  live 
Content  with  what  his  industry  could  give, 

In  frugal,  sparing  sort,  “  Behold,  my  son, 

Young  Albius  there,  how  wretchedly  undone! 

Yet  no  mean  lesson  is  the  spendthrift’s  fate  145 
To  caution  youth  from  squandering  their  estate  ” 

To  fright  me  from  the  harlot’s  vagrant  bed, 

“  Behold  Scetanius,  and  his  ruin  dread 
That  I  might  ne’er  pursue  the  wedded  dame, 

“  A  lawful  Venus  will  indulge  your  flame.  150 

My  son,  by  poor  Trebonius  be  advised  ; 

Sure  ’tis  no  pleasant  dale  to  be  surprised.” 

“  ’Twixt  right  and  wrong  the  learned  may  decide, 
With  wise  distinctions  may  your  conduct  guide  ; 

Be  mine  the  common  wisdom,  that  inspires  155 
The  frugal  manners  of  our  ancient  sires, 

And,  while  your  mouth  may  yet  a  tutor  claim, 

To  guard  your  virtue,  and  preserve  your  fame, 

But  soon  as  time  confirms,  with  stronger  tone, 

Your  strength  and  mind,  your  conduct  be  your  own.” 

Thus  did  he  form  my  youth  with  lenient  hand  ;  161 
When  he  for  virtue  urged  the  soft  command, 

i*  ■>  * 

that  he  was  accused  of  stealing  a  golden  crown  of  Jupiter,  and 
acquitted  by  the  favour  of  Augustus. 


219 


130 


135 


110 


220 


HORACE. 


Pointing  some  awful  senator  to  view, 

“  His  grave  example  constantly  pursue.” 

Would  he  dissuade  me;  “  Can  you  doubt,”  he  cries, 
“  That  equal  ruin  and  dishonour  rise  166 

From  such  an  action,  when  that  scoundrel’s  name 
Is  branded  with  the  flagrant  marks  of  shame  V ’ 

A  neighbour’s  funeral,  with  dire  affright, 

Checks  the  sick  man’s  intemperate  appetite  ;  170 

So  is  the  shame  of  others  oft  impress’d 

With  wholesome  terrors  on  the  youthful  breast. 

Thus,  pure  from  more  pernicious  crimes  I  live  : 
Some  venial  frailties  you  may  well  forgive, 

For  such  I  own  I  have  ;  and  yet  even  these,  175 
A  length  of  time,  although  by  slow  degrees, 

A  friend,  whose  candour  freely  may  reprove, 

Or  my  own  reason,  shall  perhaps  remove  ; 

For  in  my  bed,  or  in  the  colonnade 
Sauntering,  I  call  reflection  to  my  aid.  180 

“  This  was  well  done.  Here  happiness  attends. 
This  conduct  makes  me  pleasing  to  my  friends. 
Were  that  man’s  actions  of  a  beauteous  kind  I 
Oh  !  may  I  never  be  to  such  inclined  !” 

Thus,  silently  I  talk  my  conduct  o’er,  185 

Or  trifle  with  the  muse  an  idle  hour  ; 

For  which,  among  my  frailties,  I  demand 
Forgiveness,  and  shall  call  a  powerful  band, 

If  you  refuse,  of  poets  to  my  aid, 

(Well  fraught  with  numbers  is  the  rhyming  trade,) 
To  force  you  like  the  proselyting  Jews,  191 

To  be,  like  us,  a  brother  of  the  muse. 

191  Horace  knows  not  any  better  revenge  against  the  ene¬ 
mies  of  poetry  than  to  force  them  to  become  poets  themselves. 
This  pleasantry  arises  from  the  proselyting  spirit  of  the  Jews, 
who  insinuated  themselves  into  families  ;  entered  into  courts  of 
justice  ;  disturbed  the  judges,  and  were  always  more  success¬ 
ful  in  proportion  as  they  were  more  impudent.  Such  is  the 
character  given  them  by  St.  Ambrose. 


BOOK  I. — SATIRE  V. 


221 


SATIRE  V. 

Horace,  with  great  pleasantry,  describes  a  journey  of  his  from 
Rome  to  Brundusium. 

Leaving  imperial  Rome,  my  course  I  steer 
To  poor  Aricia,  and  its  moderate  cheer. 

From  all  the  Greeks,  in  rhetorician  lore, 

The  prize  of  learning  my  campanion  bore. 

To  Forutn-Appii  thence  we  steer,  a  place  5 

Stuff’d  with  rank  boatmen,  and  with  vintners  base, 
And  laggard  into  two  days’  journey  broke 
What  were  but  one  to  less  encumber’d  folk ; 

The  Appian  road,  however,  yields  most  pleasure 
To  those  who  choose  to  travel  at  their  leisure.  10 
The  water  here  was  of  so  foul  a  stream, 

Against  my  stomach  I  a  war  proclaim, 

And  wait,  though  not  with  much  good-humour  wait, 
While  with  keen  appetites  my  comrades  ate. 

The  night  o’er  earth  now  spread  her  dusky  shade, 
And  through  the  heavens  her  starry  train  display’d ;  15 
What  time,  between  the  slaves  and  boatmen  rise 
Quarrels  of  clamorous  rout.  The  boatman  cries, 

“  Step  in,  my  masters;”  when  with  open  throat, 

“  Enough,  you  scoundrel!  will  you  sink  the  boat  1”  20 
Thus,  while  the  mule  is  harness’d,  and  we  pay 
Our  freights,  an  hour  in  wrangling  slips  away. 

The  fenny  frogs  with  croakings  hoarse  and  deep, 
And  gnats,  loud  buzzing,  drive  away  our  sleep. 
Drench’d  in  the  lees  of  wine,  the  wat’ry  swam,  25 
And  passenger,  in  loud  alternate  strain 
Chant  forth  the  absent  fair,  who  warms  his  breast 
Till  wearied  passenger  retires  to  rest. 

Our  clumsy  bargeman  sends  his  mule  to  graze, 

And  the  tough  cable  to  a  rock  belays  ;  30 

7’hen  snores  supine;  but  when  at  rising  light 
Our  boat  stood  still,  upstarts  a  hair-brain’d  wight ; 
With  sallow  cudgel  breaks  the  bargeman’s  pate, 

And  bangs  the  mule  at  a  well  favour’d  rate. 

T  2 


222 


HGRACE. 


Thence  onward  labouring  with  a  world  of  pain,  35 
At  ten,  Feronia,  we  thy  fountain  gain; 

There  land  and  bathe  ;  then  after  dinner  creep 
Three  tedious  miles,  and  climb  the  rocky  steep 
Whence  Anxur  shines.  Maecenas  was  to  meet 
Cocceius  here,  to  settle  things  of  weight ;  40 

For  they  had  oft  in  embassy  been  join’d, 

And  reconciled  the  masters  of  mankind. 

Here  while  I  bathed  my  eyes  with  cooling  ointment 
They  both  arrived  according  to  appointment ; 
Fonteius  too,  a  man  of  worth  approved,  45 

And  no  man  more  by  Antony  beloved. 

Laughing  we  leave  an  entertainment  rare, 

The  paltry  pomp  of  Fundi’s  foolish  may’r, 

The  scrivener  Luscus  :  now  with  pride  elate, 

With  incense  fumed,  and  big  with  robes  of  state.  50 
From  thence  our  wearied  troop  at  Formiae  rests, 
Murena’s  lodgers,  and  Fonteius’  guests. 

Next  rising  morn  with  double  joy  we  greet, 

For  Plotius,  Yarius,  Virgil  here  we  meet : 

Pure  spirits  these ;  the  world  no  purer  knows  ;  55 

For  none  my  heart  with  more  affection  glows : 

How  oft  did  we  embrace  !  our  joys  how  great ! 

For  sure  no  blessing  in  the  power  of  fate 
Can  be  compared,  in  sanity  of  mind, 

To  friends  of  such  companionable  kind.  60 

Near  the  Campanian  bridge  that  night  we  lay, 
Where  commissaries  our  expense  defray. 

Early  next  morn  to  Capua  we  came  ; 

Maecenas  goes  to  tennis  ;  hurtful  game 

To  a  weak  stomach,  and  to  tender  eyes,  65 

So  down  to  sleep  with  Virgil  Horace  lies. 

Then  by  Cocceius  we  were  nobly  treated, 

Whose  house  above  the  Caudian  tavern’s  seated. 

And  now,  oh  muse !  in  faithful  numbers  tell 
The  memorable  squabble  that  befell,  70 


69  This  little  scene  is  of  much  natural  pleasanty,  »aised 
by  a  spirited  ridicule.  The  poet  invokes  his  muse  with  much 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE 


223 


When  Messius  and  Sarmentus  join’d  in  fight, 

And  whence  descended  each  illustrious  wight. 
Messius,  of  high  descent,  from  Osci  came  ; 

His  mistress  might  her  slave  Sarmentus  claim. 

From  such  famed  ancestry  our  champions  rise —  75 
“  Hear  me,  thou  horse-faced  rogue,”  Sarmentus  cries : 
We  laugh;  when  Messius,  throwing  up  his  head, 
Accepts  the  challenge.  “  Oh  !”  Sarmentus  said, 
“If  you  can  threaten  now,  what  would  you  do, 

Had  not  the  horn  been  rooted  out,  that  grew  80 
Full  in  thy  front  1”  A  gash  of  deep  disgrace 
Had  stain’d  the  grisly  honours  of  his  face. 

Then  on  his  country’s  infamous  disease, 

And  his  own  face,  his  ribaldry  displays  : 

Begs  him  the  one-eyed  Cyclops’  part  to  dance,  85 
Since  he  nor  mask  nor  tragic  buskins  wants. 

Messius  replied  in  virulence  of  strain  : 

“  Did  you  to  Saturn  consecrate  your  chain  1 
Though  you  were  made  a  scrivener  since  your  flight, 
Yet  that  can  never  hurt  your  lady’s  right.  90 

But,  prithee,  wherefore  did  you  run  away  1 
Methinks  a  single  pound  of  bread  a  day 
Might  such  a  sleek,  thin-gutted  rogue  content 
And  thus  the  jovial  length  of  night  we  spent. 

At  our  next  inn  our  host  was  almost  bum’d,  95 
While  some  lean  thrushes  at  the  fire  he  turn’d. 
Through  his  old  kitchen  rolls  the  god  of  fire, 

And  to  the  roof  the  vagrant  flames  aspire. 

But  hunger  all  our  terrors  overcame, 

We  fly  to  save  our  meat,  and  quench  the  flame.  100 
Apulia  now  my  native  mountain  shows, 

Where  the  north  wind  burns  frore,  and  parching 
blows ; 

Nor  could  we  well  have  climb’d  the  steepy  height 
Did  we  not  at  a  neighbouring  village  bait, 

solemnity  to  describe  an  action  of  importance,  and  gives  us  the 
genealogy  of  his  combatants,  as  if  they  were  heroes  worthy  of 
an  ©pic  poem. — San. 


224 


HORACE. 


Where  from  green  wood  the  smouldering  flames  arise, 
And  with  a  smoky  sorrow  fill  our  eyes.  106 

In  chariots  thence  at  a  large  rate  we  came 
Eight  leagues,  and  baited  at  a  town,  whose  name 
Cannot  in  verse  and  measures  be  express’d, 

But  may  by  marks  and  tokens  well  be  guess’d.  110 
Its  water,  nature’s  cheapest  element, 

Is  bought  and  sold;  its  bread  most  excellent; 

Which  wary  travellers  provide  with  care, 

And  on  their  shoulders  to  Canusium  bear  ; 

Whose  bread  is  gritty,  and  its  wealthiest  stream  115 
Poor  as  the  town’s  of  unpoetic  name. 

Here  Varius  leaves  us,  and  with  tears  he  goes: 
With  equal  tenderness  our ‘sorrow  flows. 

Onward  to  Rubi  wearily  we  toil’d, 

The  journey  long,  the  road  with  rain  was  spoil’d.  120 
To  Barium,  famed  for  fish,  we  reach’d  next  day, 

The  weather  fair,  but  much  worse  the  way. 

Then  water-cursed  Egnatia  gave  us  joke, 

And  laughter  great,  to  hear  the  moon-struck  folk 
Assert,  if  incense  on  their  altars  lay,  -  125 

Without  the  help  of  fire  it  melts  away. 

The  sons  of  circumcision  may  receive 

The  wondrous  tale,  which  I  shall  ne’er  believe ; 

For  I  have  better  learn’d,  in  blissful  ease 

That  the  good  gods  enjoy  immortal  days,  130 

Nor  anxiously  their  native  skies  forsake, 

When  miracles  the  laws  of  nature  break. 

From  thence  our  travels  to  Brundusium  bend, 
Where  our  long  journey  and  my  paper  end. 

130  Such  were  the  gods  of  Epicurus  :  indolent  and  useless  to 
mankind,  consequently  unworthy  of  adoration.  The  name  of 
nature  was  used  to  explain  any  miraculous  or  unaccountable 
act  of  Providence,  or  the  power  of  fortune  was  substituted  in 
the  place  of  a  deity.  A  concern  for  mortals  was  too  serious, 
tristis,  for  gods,  whose  whole  being  was  pleasure. 

133  Brundusium  was  about  three  hundred  and  sixty  miles 
from  Rome.  They  performed  the  journey  in  fourteen  days  and 
a  night,  about  four-and-twenty  miles  a  day. 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE  VI. 


225 


SATIRE  VI.— TO  MAECENAS. 

In  this  satire  the  poet  treats  on  true  nobility. 

t 

Though,  since  the  Lydians  fill’d  the  Tuscan  coasts, 
No  richer  blood  than  yours  Etruria  boasts; 

Though  your  great  ancestors  have  armies  led, 

You  don’t,  as  many  do,  with  scorn. upbraid 

The  man  of  birth  unknown,  or  turn  the  nose  9 

On  me,  w'ho  from  a  race  of  slaves  arose : 

While  you  regard  not  from  what  low  degree 
A  man’s  descended,  if  his  mind  be  free  ; 

Convinced,  that  long  before  th’  ignoble  reign 
And  power  of  Tullius,  from  a  servile  train  10 

Full  many  rose  for  virtue  high  renown’d, 

By  worth  ennobled,  and  with  honours  crown’d : 
While  he,  who  boasts  that  ancient  race  his  own 
Which  drove  the  haughty  Tarquin  from  the  throne, 
Is  vile  and  worthless  in  the  poet’s  eyes:  15 

The  people,  who,  you  knowr,  bestow  the  prize 
To  men  most  worthless,  and,  like  slaves  to  fame, 
With  foolish  reverence  hail  a  titled  name  ; 

And,  rapt  with  awe-struck  admiration,  gaze 
When  the  long  race  its  images  displays.  20 

But  how  shall  we,  who  differ  far  and  wide 
From  the  mere  vulgar,  this  great  point  decide  ? 

For  grant,  the  crowd  some  high-birth’d  scoundrel 
choose, 

And  to  the  low-born  man  of  worth  refuse 
(Because  low  born)  the  honours  of  the  state,  25 
Shall  we  from  thence  their  vice  or  virtue  rate? 

Were  I  expell’d  the  senate-house  with  scorn, 

Justly,  perhaps,  because  thus  meanly  born, 

I  fondly  wander’d  from  my  native  sphere  ; 

Yet  shall  I  with  less  real  worth  appear?  30 

Chain’d  to  her  beamy  car  fame  drags  along 
The  mean,  the  great ;  an  undistinguish’d  throng. 

Poor  Tillius,  when  compell’d  in  luckless  hour 
To  quit  your  purple  robe  and  tribune’s  power, 


226 


HORACE. 


A  larger  share  of  envy  was  thy  fate,  35 

Which  had  been  lessen’d  in  a  private  state  ; 

For  in  black  sandals  when  a  coxcomb’s  dress’d, 
When  floats  the  robe  impurpled  down  his  breast, 
Instant,  “  What  man  is  this  ?”  he  round  him  hears  ; 
“  And  who  his  father?”  As  when  one  appears  40 
Sick  of  your  fever,  Barrus,  to  desire 
That  all  the  world  his  beauty  should  admire, 

Anxious  our  girls  inquire,  “  What  mien  and  air! 
What  leg  and  foot  he  has !  what  teeth  and  hair !” 

So  he,  who  promises  to  guard  the  state,  45 

The  gods,  the  temples,  and  th’  imperial  seat, 

Makes  every  mortal  ask  his  father’s  name, 

And  not  less  curious  of  his  mother’s  fame. 

“And  shall  a  Syrian’s  son,  like  you,  presume 
To  hurl  the  freeborn  citizens  of  Rome  50 

From  the  Tarpeian  rock’s  tremendous  height, 

Or  to  the  hangman  Cadmus  give  their  fate?” 

Tillius.  My  colleague  sits  below  me  one  degree, 
For  Novius,  like  my  father,  was  made  free. 

Horace.  Shall  you  for  this  a  true  Messala  seem,  55 
And  rise  a  Paulus  in  your  own  esteem  ? 

But  when  two  hundred  wagons  crowd  the  street, 

And  three  long  funerals  in  procession  meet, 

Beyond  the  fifes  and  horns  his  voice  he  raises, 

And  sure  such  strength  of  lungs  a  wondrous  praise  is. 

As  for  myself,  a  freedman’s  son  confess’d  ;  61 

A  freedman’s  son,  the  public  scorn  and  jest, 

That  now  with  you  I  joy  the  social  hour, 

That  once  a  Roman  legion  own’d  my  power ; 

But  though  they  envied  my  command  in  war  65 
Justly  perhaps,  yet  sure  ’tis  different  far 
To  gain  your  friendship,  where  no  servile  art, 

Where  only  men  of  merit  claim  a  part. 

Nor  yet  to  chance  this  happiness  I  owe ; 
Friendship  like  yours  it  had  not  to  bestow.  70 

First,  my  best  Virgil,  then  my  Variustold, 

Among  my  friends  what  character  I  hold  ; 


BOOK  I.  - SATIRE  VI. 


227 


When  introduced,  in  few  and  faltering  words 
(Such  as  an  infant  modesty  affords) 

I  did  not  tell  you  my  descent  was  great,  75 

Or  that  I  wander’d  round  my  country  seat 
On  a  proud  steed  in  richer  pastures  bred  ; 

But  what  I  really  was,  I  frankly  said. 

Short  was  your  answer,  in  your  usual  strain ; 

I  take  my  leave,  nor  wait  on  you  again,  80 

Till,  nine  months  past,  engaged  and  bid  to  hold 
A  place  among  your  nearer  friends  enroll’d. 

An  honour  this,  methinks,  of  nobler  kind, 

That  innocent  of  heart  and  pure  of  mind, 

Though  with  no  titled  birth,  I  gain’d  his  love,  85 
Whose  judgment  can  discern,  whose  choice  approve. 

If  some  few  venial  faults  deform  my  soul, 

(Like  a  fair  face  when  spotted  with  a  mole,) 

If  none  with  avarice  justly  brand  my  fame 
With  sordidness,  or  deeds  too  vile  to  name:  90 

If  pure  and  innocent :  if  dear  (forgive 
These  little  praises')  to  my  friends  I  live, 

My  father  was  the  cause,  who,  though  maintain’d 
By  a  lean  farm  but  poorly,  yet  disdain’d 
The  country  schoolmaster,  to  whose  low  care  95 
The  mighty  captain  sent  his  high-born  heir, 

With  satchel,  copy-book,  and  pelf  to  pay 
The  wretched  teacher  on  th’  appointed  day. 

To  Rome  by  this  bold  father  was  I  brought, 

To  learn  those  arts  which  well-born  youth  are  taught ; 
So  dress’d  and  so  attended,  you  would  swear  101 
I  was  some  senator’s  expensive  heir; 

Himself  my  guardian,  of  unblemish’d  truth, 

Among  my  tutors  would  attend  my  youth, 

And  thus  preserved  my  chastity  of  mind,  105 

(That  prime  of  virtue  in  its  highest  kind,) 

93  This  little  episode,  if  it  may  be  so  called,  is  of  great  beau¬ 
ty,  and  does  much  honour  both  to  the  father  and  son.  It  shows 
that  greatness  of  sentiments  and  goodness  of  heart  are  not  con¬ 
fined  to  people  of  birth  and  fortune. — San 


228 


HORACE. 


Not  only  pure  from  guilt,  but  even  the  shame 
That  might  with  vile  suspicion  hurt  my  fame  : 

Nor  feard’d  to  be  reproach’d,  although  my  fate 
Should  fix  my  fortune  in  some  meaner  state,  110 
From  which  some  trivial  perquisites  arise, 

Or  make  me,  like  himself,  collector  of  excise. 

For  this  my  heart,  far  from  complaining,  pays 
A  larger  debt  of  gratitude  and  praise  ; 

Nor,  while  my  senses  hold,  shall  I  repent  115 

Of  such  a  father,  nor  with  pride  resent, 

As  many  do,  th’  involuntary  disgrace 
Not  to  be  born  of  an  illustrious  race. 

But  not  with  theirs  my  sentiments  agree, 

Or  language  ;  for  if  nature  should  decree  120 

That  we  from  any  stated  point  might  live 
Our  former  years,  and  to  our  choice  should  give 
The  sires,  to  whom  we  wish’d  to  be  allied, 

Let  others  choose  to  gratify  their  pride  ; 

While  I,  contended  with  my  own,  resign  125 

The  titled  honours  of  an  ancient  line. 

This  may  be  madness  in  the  people’s  eyes. 

But  in  your  judgment  not,  perhaps,  unwise  ; 

That  I  refuse  to  bear  a  pomp  of  state, 

Unused  and  much  unequal  to  the  weight.  13(1 

Instant  a  larger  fortune  must  be  made  : 

To  purchase  votes  my  low  addresses  paid ; 

Whether  a  jaunt  or  journey  I  propose, 

With  me  a  crowd  of  new  companions  goes  ; 

While,  anxious  to  complete  a  length  of  train,  135 
Domestics,  horses,  chariots,  I  maintain. 

But  now,  as  chance  or  pleasure  is  my  guide, 

Upon  my  bob-tail’d  mule  alone  I  ride. 

Gall’d  is  his  crupper  with  my  wallet’s  weight ; 

His  shoulder  shows  his  rider’s  awkward  seat.  140 
Yet  no  penurious  vileness  e’er  shall  stain 
My  name  ;  as  when,  great  pretor,  with  your  train 
Of  five  poor  slaves,  you  carry  where  you  dine 
Your  travelling  kitchen,  and  your  flask  of  wine. 


BOOK  I. — SATIRE  VI.  229 

Thus  have  I  greater  blessings  in  my  power  145 
Than  you,  proud  senator,  and  thousands  more. 

Alone  I  wander,  as  by  fancy  led, 

I  cheapen  herbs,  or  ask  the  price  of  bread  ; 

I  listen,  while  diviners  tell  their  tale, 

Then  homeward  hasten  to  my  frugal  meal,  150 
Herbs,  pulse,  and  pancakes  ;  each  a  separate  plate  ; 
While  three  domestics  at  my  supper  wait. 

A  bowl  on  a  white  marble  table  stands, 

Two  goblets,  and  a  ewer  to  wash  my  hands  ; 

A  hallow’d  cup  of  true  Campanian  clay  155 

My  pure  libations  to  the  gods  to  pay. 

I  then  retire  to  rest,  nor  anxious  fear 
Before  dread  Marsyas  early  to  appear, 

Whose  very  statue  swears  it  cannot  brook 
The  meanness  of  that  slave-born  judge’s  look.  160 
I  sleep  till  ten ;  then  take  a  walk,  or  choose 
A  book,  perhaps,  or  trifle  with  the  muse  : 

For  cheerful  exercise  and  manly  toil 
Anoint  my  body  with  the  aliant  oil, 

But  not  with  such  as  Natta’s,  when  he  vamps  165 
His  filthy  limbs,  and  robs  the  public  lamps. 

But  when  the  sun  pours  down  his  fiercer  fire, 

And  bids  me  from  the  toilsome  sport  retire, 

I  haste  to  bathe,  then  decently  regale 

My  craving  stomach  with  a  frugal  meal,  170 

Enough  to  nourish  nature  for  a  day, 

Then  trifle  my  domestic  hours  away. 

Such  is  the  life  from  bad  ambition  free  ; 

Such  comfort  has  the  man  low-born  like  me: 

With  which  I  feel  myself  more  truly  bless’d  175 
Than  if  my  sires  the  questor’s  power  possess’d. 

158  A  satyr,  who,  challenging  Apollo  to  a  trial  of  skill  in  mu¬ 
sic,  was  overcome  and  flayed  alive  by  the  god.  A  statue  was 
erected  to  him  in  the  forum,  opposite  to  the  rostra,  where  the 
judges  determined  causes ;  and  the  poet  pleasantly  says  it  stood 
in  such  an  attitude,  as  showed  its  indignation  to  behold  a  man 
who  had  been  a  slave  now  sitting  among  the  magistrates  of 
Rome .  The  satyr,  in  his  resentment  of  such  a  sight,  forgets 
the  pain  of  being  flayed  alive. —  Torr. 

Hob.  Vol.  I.— U 


230 


HORACE. 


SATIRE  VII. 

Horace  humorously  describes  a  squabble  between  Rupilius  and 

Persius. 

How  mongrel  Persius  in  his  wrathful  mood 
That  outlaw’d  wretch,  Rupilius  King,  pursued 
With  poisonous  filth,  and  venom  all  his  own, 

To  barbers,  and  to  blear-eyed  folk  is  known. 

Persius  had  wealth  by  foreign  traffic  gain’d,  5 
And  a  vexatious  suit  with  King  maintain’d. 
Presumptuous,  vain,  and  obstinate  the  wight, 
Conquering  even  King  in  virulence  of  spite  ; 

In  bitterness  of  speech  outstripp’d  the  wind, 

And  left  the  swift-tongued  Barrus  far  behind.  10 
Now  to  the  King  returns  our  wandering  tale, 
When  all  fair  means  of  reconcilement  fail ; 

(For  men  are  obstinate  when  war’s  proclaim’d, 

As  they  with  inward  courage  are  inflamed  ; 

When  Hector  and  Achilles  fierce  engaged,  15 
Dire  was  the  conflict,  and  to  death  they  raged: 

And  why!  because  the  gallant  thirst  of  fame, 

The  love  of  glory,  was  in  both  extreme. 

But  if  a  quarrel  between  cowards  rise, 

Or  between  chiefs  of  less  heroic  size,  20 

Glaucus  to  Diomed  is  forced  to  yield, 

The  dastard  buys  his  peace,  and  quits  the  field.) 

What  time  o’er  Asia  with  pretorial  sway 
Great  Brutus  ruled,  began  this  dire  affray. 

Persius  and  King,  intrepid  pair,  engage,  25 

(More  equal  champions  never  mounted  stage,) 

And  now  they  rush  impetuous  into  court, 

Fine  was  the  sight,  and  delicate  the  sport. 

1  Persius  was  a  week  by  his  lather,  and  an  Italian  by  his  mo¬ 
ther.  The  Romans  gave  the  name  of  ibrida  to  them  whose  pa¬ 
rents  were  of  different  nations,  or  of  different  conditions. —  Torr. 

2  Publius  Rupilius  Rex,  a  native  of  Praeneste,  being  proscribed 
by  Augustas  during  the  triumvirate,  engaged  in  the  army  of 
Brutus.  Jealous  of  our  author’s  military  advancement,  he  re¬ 
proached  him  with  the  meanness  of  his  birth.— San. 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE  VIII. 


231 


Persius  begins  ;  loud  bursts  of  laughter  rise  ; 

He  praises  Brutus,  Brutus,  to  the  skies  :  30 

“  Brutus,  like  Sol,  o’er  Asia  pours  the  day ; 

His  friends  are  stars,  and  healthful  is  their  ray, 
Except  the  King ;  he  like  the  dogstar  reigns, 

That  dog  of  heaven,  detested  by  the  swains.” 

Thus  rush’d  he  onward  like  a  winter  flood,  35 

That  tears  its  banks,  and  sweeps  away  the  wood. 

To  this  impetuous  bitterness  of  tide 
The  King  with  equal  virulence  replied. 

A  vine-dresser  he  was,  of  rustic  tone, 

Whom  oft  the  traveller  was  forced  to  own  40 

Invincible  ;  with  clamorous  voice  opress’d, 

When  cuckoo,  cuckoo,  was  the  standing  jest. 

But,  with  Italian  vinegar  imbued, 

The  sour-tongued  mongrel  the  dispute  renew’d  , 

“  Let  me  conjure  thee,  by  the  powers  divine,  45 
Since  ’tis  the  glory,  Brutus,  of  thy  line 
To  slaughter  kings,  be  this  thy  glorious  deed, 

That  this  same  King  beneath  thy  vengeance  bleed.” 

42  Many  wise  reasons  are  given  why  the  name  of  this  bird 
should  be  a  term  of  reproach,  for  such  it  is,  in  almost  all  lan¬ 
guages.  The  best  account  of  it  is,  that  the  cuckoo  sleeps  half 
the  year,  and  leaves  the  care  of  his  family  to  others. 

46  It  was  an  hereditary  glory  in  the  family  of  Brutus  to  abol¬ 
ish  tyranny  and  punish  tyrants.  Lucius  Junius  Brutus  expelled 
having  the  last  monarch  of  Rome.  Marcus  and  Decius  Brutus, 
killed  Julius  Caesar,  proclaimed  through  the  streets  that  they 
had  destroyed  the  king  of  Rome,  and  the  tyrant  of  his  country. 

SATIRE  VIII. 

Priapus  complains  that  the  Esquillian  mount  is  infested  with 
the  incantations  of  sorceresses. 

.  I. 

In  days  of  yore  our  godship  stood, 

A  very  worthless  log  of  wood, 

The  joiner  doubting,  or  to  shape  us 
Into  a  stool,  or  a  Priapus, 

At  length  resolved,  for  reasons  wise. 

Into  a  god  to  bid  me  rise ; 


5 


232 


HORACE. 


And  now  to  birds  and  thieves  I  stand 
A  terror  great.  With  ponderous  hand, 

And  something  else  as  red  as  scarlet, 

I  fright  away  each  filching  varlet. 

The  birds,  that  view  with  awful  dread 
The  reeds,  fast  stuck  into  my  head, 

Far  from  the  garden  take  their  flight, 

Nor  on  the  trees  presume  to  light. 

In  coffins  vile  the  herd  of  slaves 
Were  hither  brought  to  crowd  their  graves; 
And  once  in  this  detested  ground 
A  common  tomb  the  vulgar  found ; 

Buffoons  and  spendthrifts,  vile  and  base, 
Together  rotted  here  in  peace. 

A  thousand  feet  the  front  extends, 

Three  hundred  deep  in  rear  it  bends, 

And  yonder  column  plainly  shows 
No  more  unto  its  heirs  it  goes. 

But  now  we  breathe  a  purer  air, 

And  walk  the  sunny  terrace  fair, 

Where  once  the  ground  with  bones  was  whi 
With  human  bones,  a  ghastly  sight ! 

But,  oh  !  nor  thief,  nor  savage  beast, 

That  used  these  gardens  to  infest, 

E’er  gave  me  half  such  cares  and  pains 
As  they,  who  turn  poor  people’s  brains 
With  venom’d  drugs  and  magic  lay — 

These  I  can  never  fright  away ; 

For  when  the  beauteous  queen  of  night 
Uplifts  her  head  adorn’d  with  light, 

Hither  they  come,  pernicious  crones  ! 

To  gather  poisonous  herbs  and  bones. 

Canidia  with  dishevell’d  hair, 

(Black  was  her  robe,  her  feet  were  bare.) 
With  Sagana,  infernal  dame  ! 

Her  elder  sister,  hither  came. 

With  yellings  dire  they  fill’d  the  place, 

And  hideous  pale  was  either’s  face. 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE  VIII. 


233 


Soon  with  their  nails  they  scraped  the  ground, 
And  fill’d  a  magic  trench  profound  46 

With  a  black  lamb’s  thick-streaming  gore, 
Whose  members  with  their  teeth  they  tore, 
That  they  may  charm  the  sprights  to  tell 
Some  curious  anecdotes  from  hell.  50 

The  beldams  then  two  figures  brought ; 

Of  wool  and  wax  the  forms  were  wrought  : 

The  woollen  was  erect  and  tall, 

And  scourged  the  waxen  image  small, 

Which  in  a  suppliant,  servile  mood,  55 

With  dying  air  just  gasping  stood. 

On  Hecate  one  beldam  calls  ; 

The  other  to  the  furies  bawls, 

While  serpents  crawl  along  the  ground, 

And  Stygian  she-dogs  howl  around.  60 

The  blushing  moon,  to  shun  the  sight, 

Behind  a  tomb  withdrew  her  light. 

Oh !  if  I  lie,  may  ravens  shed 
Their  ordure  on  my  sacred  head ! 

Not  to  be  tedious,  or  repeat  65 

How  flats  and  sharps  in  concert  meet, 

With  which  the  ghosts  and  hags  maintain 
A  dialogue  of  passing  strain ; 

Or  how,  to  hide  the  tooth  of  snake 

And  beard  of  wolf,  the  ground  they  break  ;  70 

Or  how  the  fire  of  magic  seized 

The  waxen  form,  and  how  it  blazed ; 

Mark  how  my  vengeance  I  pursued 
For  all  I  heard,  for  all  I  view’d. 

Loud  as  a  bladder  bursts  its  wind,  75 

Dreadful  it  thunder’d  from  behind. 

To  town  they  scamper’d,  struck  with  fear, 

This  lost  her  teeth,  and  that  her  hair. 

They  dropp’d  the  bracelets  from  their  arms, 
Their  incantations,  herbs,  and  charms ;  80 

Whoe’er  had -seen  them  in  their  flight 
Had  burst  with  laughing  at  the  sight. 

T  2 


234 


HORACE. 


SATIRE  IX. 

The  poet  describes  his  sufferings  from  the  loquacity  of  an  imper¬ 
tinent  fellow. 

Musing,  as  wont,  on  this  and  that, 

Such  trifles,  as  I  know  not  what, 

When  late  the  street  I  saunter’d  through, 

A  wight,  whose  name  I  hardly  knew, 
Approaching  pertly  makes  me  stand,  5 

And  thus  accosts  me,  hand-in-hand : 

“  How  do  you  do,  my  sweetest  man  1” 

Quoth  I,  “  As  well  as  mortal  can, 

And  my  best  wishes  yours” — when  he 
Would  follow — “  What’s  your  will  with  me  1”  10 
“  That  one  of  your  profound  discerning 
Should  know  me  :  I’m  a  man  of  learning.” — 

Why  then  be  sure  upon  that  score 
You  merit  my  regard  the  more.” 

Impatient  to  discard  the  fop,  15 

One  while  I  run,  another  stop, 

And  whisper,  as  he  presses  near, 

Some  nothing  in  my  servant’s  ear. 

But  while  at  every  pore  I  sweated, 

And  thus  in  muttering  silence  fretted —  20 

“  Bolanus,  happy  in  a  scull 
Of  proof  impenetrably  dull, 

Oh  for  a  portion  of  thy  brains  1” 

He  on  the  town  and  streets  and  lanes 

His  parting,  praising  talent  tried,  25 

And,  when  I  answered  not,  he  cried, 

“  Ay,  ’tis  too  plain ;  you  can’t  deceive  me, 

You  miserably  wish  to  leave  me; 

But  I  shall  never  quit  you  so  ; 

Command  me — whither  would  you  go1?” —  30 

“  You  do  me  honour — but,  in  short, 

There’s  not  the  least  occasion  for’t. 


BOOK  I. — SATIRE  IX. 


235 


I  visit  one — to  cut  the  strife, 

You  never  saw  him  in  your  life  ; 

Nor  would  I  lead  you  such  a  round-  35 

He  lives  above  a  mile  of  ground 
Beyond  the  Tiber.”  “  Never  talk 
Of  distance,  for  I  love  a 'walk. 

I  never  have  the  least  enjoyment 
In  idleness  :  I  want  employment.  40 

Come  on ;  I  must  and  will  attend 
Your  person  to  your  journey’s  end.” 

Like  vicious  ass,  that  fretting  bears 
A  wicked  load,  I  hang  my  ears ; 

While  he,  renewing  his  civilities,  45 

“  If  well  I  know  my  own  abilities, 

Not  Yiscus,  though  your  friend  of  yore, 

Not  Yarius  could  engage  you  more; 

For  who  can  write  melodious  lays 
With  greater  elegance  or  ease  !  50 

Who  moves  with  smoother  grace  his  limbs 
While  through  the  mazy  dance  he  swims  ! 
Besides,  I  sing  to  that  degree, 

Hermogenes  might  envy  me.” 

Have  you  no  mother,  sister,  friends,  o5 
Whose  welfare  on  your  health  depends ! — 

“  Not  one ;  I  saw  them  all  by  turns 
Securely  settled  in  their  urns.” 

Thrice  happy  they,  secure  from  pain! 

And  I  thy  victim  now  remain ;  60 

Despatch  me  ;  for  my  goody  nurse 
Early  presaged  this  heavy  curse  : 

She  conn’d  it  by  the  sieve  and  shears, 

And  now  it  falls  upon  my  ears — 

Nor  poison  fell,  with  ruin  stored,  65 

Nor  horrid  point  of  hostile  sword, 

Nor  pleurisy,  nor  asthma  cough, 

Nor  cripple  gout  shall  cut  him  off: 

A  noisy  tongue,  and  babbling  breath, 

Shall  teaze  and  talk  mv  child  to  death. 


70 


236 


HORACE. 


But  if  he  would  avert  his  fate, 

When  he  arrives  at  man’s  estate. 

Let  him  avoid,  as  he  would  hanging, 

Your  folks  long-winded  in  haranguing. 

We  came  to  Vesta’s  about  ten,  75 

And  he  was  bound  in  person  then 
To  stand  a  suit,  or  by  the  laws 
He  must  have  forfeited  his  cause. 

“  Sir,  if  you  love  me,  step  aside 
A  little  into  court,”  he  cried.  80 

“  If  I  can  stand  it  out,”  quoth  I, 

“  Or  know  the  practice,  let  me  die ! 

Besides,  I  am  obliged  to  go 
Precisely  to  the  place  you  know.” — 

“  I  am  divided  what  to  do,  85 

Whether  to  leave  my  cause,  or  you.” — 

“  Sir,  1  beseech  you  spare  your  pains. 

Your  humble  servant — ”  “  By  no  means.” 

I  follow,  for  he  leads  the  way; 

’Tis  death ;  but  captives  must  obey.  90 

Then  he  renews  his  plaguy  strain,  as, 

How  stands  your  friendship  with  Maecenas  V ’ 
For  friendships  he  contracts  but  few, 

And  shows  in  that  his  judgment  true. — 

“  Commend  me  to  your  brother  bard,  95 

No  man  has  play’d  a  surer  card. 

But  you  should  have  a  man  of  art ; 

One  who  might  act  an  under  part. 

If  you  were  pleased  to  recommend 

The  man  I  mentioned  to  your  friend,  100 

Sir,  may  I  never  see  the  light 

But  you  shall  rout  your  rivals  quite !” — 

We  live  not  there,  as  you  suppose, 

On  such  precarious  terms  as  those  : 

No  family  was  ever  purer,  105 

From  such  infections  none  securer. 

It  never  hurts  me  in  the  least, 

That  one  excels  in  wealth  or  taste ; 


BOOK  I. - SATIRE  IX.  237 

Each  person  there  of  course  inherits 
A  place  proportion’d  to  his  merits —  110 

“  ’Tis  wonderful,  and  to  be  brief, 

A  thing  almost  beyond  belief.” — 

But,  whether  you  believe,  or  no, 

The  matter  is  exactly  so. 

“  This  adds  but  fuel  to  the  fire,  115 

The  more  you  kindle  my  desire 
To  kiss  his  hand,  and  pay  my  court.” — 

Assail,  and  you  shall  take  the  fort, 

Such  is  the  vigour  of  your  wit, 

And  he  is  one  who  can  submit ;  120 

The  first  attack  is  therefore  nice, 

The  matter  is  to  break  the  ice. 

“  I  shan’t  be  wanting  there,”  he  cried, 

“  I’ll  bribe  his  servants  to  my  side  ; 

To-day  shut  out,  still  onward  press,  125 

And  watch  the  seasons  of  access  ; 

In  private  haunt,  in  public  meet, 

Salute,  escort  him  through  the  street. 

There’s  nothing  gotten  in  this  life 
Without  a  word  of  toil  and  strife  !”  130 

While  thus  he  racks  my  tortured  ears, 

A  much-loved  friend  of  mine  appears, 

Aristius  Fuscus,  one  who  knew 

My  sweet  companion  through  and  through. 

We  stop,  exchanging  “  So  and  so  135 

“  Whence  come,  and  whither  do  you  go 
I  then  began  in  woful  wise 
To  nod  my  head,  distort  my  eyes, 

And  pull  his  renegado  sleeve, 

That  he  would  grant  me  a  reprieve  ;  140 

But  he  was  absent  all  the  while, 

Malicious  with  a  leering  smile. 

Provoked  at  his  dissimulation, 

I  burst  with  spleen  and  indignation. 

“  I  know  not  what  you  had  to  tell  145 

In  private.”  I  remember  well : 


# 


238 


HOHACE. 


But  shall  a  day  of  business  choose, 

This  is  the  sabbath  of  the  Jews  ; 

You  would  not  thus  offend  the  leathern- 
curtail’d  assemblies  of  the  brethren —  150 

“  I  have  no  scruples,  by  your  leave, 

On  that  account.”  But,  sir,  I  have  : 

I  am  a  little  superstitious. 

Like  many  of  the  crowd,  capricious  : 

Forgive  me,  if  it  be  a  crime,  155 

And  I  shall  talk  another  time. 

Oh !  that  so  black  a  sun  should  rise ! 

Away  the  cruel  creature  flies, 

And  leaves  me  panting  for  my  life, 

Aghast  beneath  the  butcher’s  knife.  160 

At  last,  by  special  act  of  grace, 

The  plaintiff  meets  him  face  to  face, 

And  bawls  as  loud  as  he  could  bellow, 

“  Ha !  whither  now,  thou  vilest  fellow  1 

Sir,  will  you  witness  to  my  capture  1”  165 

I  signified  I  would  with  rapture  ; 

And  then,  to  magnify  the  sport, 

He  drags  my  prattler  into  court ; 

And  thus,  amid  the  noise  and  rabble, 

Apollo  saved  me  in  the  squabble.  170 

148  Augustus,  in  imitation  of  Julius  Csesar,  allowed  the  Jews 
uncommon  privileges.  He  not  only  permitted  them  an  undis¬ 
turbed  enjoyment  of  their  religion,  but  established  funds  that 
they  might  offer  a  bull  and  two  lambs  in  the  Temple  of  Jerusa¬ 
lem  every  day  for  him  and  his  family. — Dac. 


SATIRE  X. 

Horace  supports  the  judgment  he  had  before  given  of  Lucilius, 
and  intersperses  some  excellent  precepts  for  the  writing  of 
satire. 

Yes,  I  did  say  Lucilius’  verses  roll’d 
In  ruder  style  precipitately  bold  ; 


BOOK  I. — SATIRE  X. 


239 


Who  reads  Lucilius  with  so  fond  an  eye, 

Partially  fond,  who  can  this* charge  deny  ? 

But,  that  with  wit  he  lash’d  a  vicious  age,  5 

He’s  frankly  praised  in  the  same  equal  page. 

Should  I  grant  more,  I  may  as  well  admit 
Laberius’  farces  elegantly  writ. 

’Tis  not  enough  a  bursting  laugh  to  raise, 

Yet  even  this  talent  may  deserve  its  praise  :  10 

Concise  your  diction  ;  let  your  sense  be  clear, 

Nor  with  a  weight  of  words  fatigue  the  ear. 

Now  change  from  grave  to  gay  with  ready  art, 

Now  play  the  orator’s,  or  poet’s  part ; 

In  raillery  assume  a  gayer  air,  15 

Discreetly  hide  your  strength,  your  vigour  spare ; 
For  ridicule  shall  frequently  prevail, 

And  cut  the  knot,  when  graver  reasons  fail. 

The  ancient  writers  of  the  comic  stage 
Our  imitation  here  may  well  engage,  20 

Though  read  not  by  Tigellius,  smooth  of  face, 

Or  yonder  ape,  of  horrible  grimace. 

Calvus,  Catullus  better  suit  their  vein, 

Whose  wanton  songs  they  chant  in  tuneful  strain. 

But  yet  a  mighty  feat  it  must  be  thought —  25 

“  His  motley  page  with  Greek  and  Latin’s  wrought !” 
Blockheads  !  who  think  it  wonderful  or  hard, 

So  oft  perform’d  by  yonder  Rhodian  bard. 

“  But  languages  each  other  may  refine, 

(As  Chian  softens  the  Falernian  wine,)  30 

At  least  in  verse.”  But  say,  my  rhyming  friend, 
Were  you  that  thief  Petilius  to  defend, 

While  other  lawyers  sweated  in  the  cause, 

And  urged  in  pure  Latinity  the  laws  : 

While  wondering  crowds  upon  their  language  hung, 
Would  you,  forgetful  of  your  native  tongue,  30 
In  foreign  words  and  broken  phrases  speak, 

The  half-form’d  jargon  of  a  mongrel  Greek! 

In  Latium  born,  I  once  proposed  to  write 
Some  Grecian  versicles,  in  deep  of  night  40 


240  HORACE. 

(When  dreams,  they  say,  are  true)  Rome’s  founder 
rose, 

And  awful  spake  :  “You  may  as  well  propose 
To  carry  timber  to  a  wood,  as  throng 
The  crowded  writers  of  the  Grecian  song.” 

Let  swelling  Furius  on  th’  affrighted  stage  45 
Murder  poor  Memnon,  or  in  muddy  rage 
Describe  the  head  of  Rhine  ;  in  idle  vein 
I  write,  what  never  shall  presume  to  gain 
The  prize,  where  Metius  high  in  judgment  sits 
To  hear  the  labours  of  contending  wits  :  50 

Or  where  the  people  with  applauding  hands 
The  well-wrought  scene  repeatedly  demands. 

Of  all  mankind,  in  light  and  easy  vein 
Fundanius  best  can  paint  the  comic  scene, 

The  wily  harlot,  and  the  slave  who  join  55 

To  wipe  the  miser  of  his  darling  coin. 

Pollio  in  pure  iambic  numbers  sings 
The  tragic  deeds  of  heroes  and  of  kings ; 

While  Varius  in  sublime  and  ardent  vein 
Supports  the  grandeur  of  the  epic  strain.  60 

On  Virgil  all  the  rural  muses  smile, 

Smooth  flow  his  lines,  and  elegant  his  style. 

Satire  alone  remain’d,  no  easy  strain, 

Which  Varro,  and  some  others,  tried  in  vain, 

While  I,  perhaps,  some  slight  success  may  claim,  65 
Though  far  inferior  to  th’  inventor’s  fame : 

Nor  from  his  head  shall  I  presume  to  tear 
That  sacred  wreath,  he  well  deserves  to  wear. 

1  said,  his  verse  in  muddy  rapture  flows, 

And  more  his  errors  than  his  beauties  shows  ;  70 

But,  prithee,  you  that  boast  a  critic’s  name, 

Don’t  you  sometimes  the  mighty  Homer  blame  1 
Does  not  Lucilius,  though  of  gentle  strain, 

Correct  even  Accius,  and  reform  his  scene? 

And  in  his  pleasantry  old  Ennius  rate,  75 

When  his  dull  lines  want  dignity  and  weight  1 
Yet  when  he  speaks  of  his  own  right  to  fame. 
Confesses  frankly  their  superior  claim. 


BOOK  I. — SATIRE  X. 


241 


What  then  forbids  our  equal  right  to  know 
Why  his  own  verses  inharmonious  flow  1  80 

Or  whether  in  his  subject  lies  the  fault, 

Or  in  himself,  that  they’re  not  higher  wrought, 

Than  if  the  art  of  verse  were  to  confine 
In  ten  low  feet  a  cold,  dull  length  of  line, 

Content  his  rhyming  talents  to  display  85 

In  twice  a  hundred  verses  twice  a  day. 

Such,  Cassius,  thy  rapidity  of  song, 

Which  like  a  foaming  river  pour’d  along, 

Whose  volumed  works  (if  fame  be  not  a  liar) 
Kindled  around  thy  corse  the  funeral  fire.  90 

Lucilius  rallies  with  politer  ease 
Than  all  the  rhyming  tribe  of  ancient  days, 

Nay  more  correct  than  him  (I  frankly  own) 

Who  form’d  this  kind  of  verse,  to  Greece  unknown ; 
Yet,  were  he  fated  to  the  present  age,  95 

He  sure  had  blotted  the  redundant  page  ; 

Pruned  all  luxuriant  excellence  away, 

And  while  he  labour’d  o’er  th’  instructive  lay 
Would  often  scratch  his  head  in  dull  despair, 

And  to  the  quick  his  nails  bemusing  tear.  100 

Would  you  a  reader’s  just  esteem  engage, 

Correct  with  frequent  care  the  blotted  page ; 

Nor  strive  the  wonder  of  the  crowd  to  raise, 

But  the  few  better  judges  learn  to  please. 

Be  thine,  fond  madman,  some  vile  school  to  choose, 
Where  to  repeat  the  labours  of  your  muse,  106 
While  I,  like  hiss’d  Arbuscula  unaw’d, 

Despise  the  vulgar,  since  the  knights  applaud. 

Say,  shall  that  bug  Pantilius  move  my  spleen  1 
Shall  I  be  tortured,  when  a  wretch  obscene,  110 
Or  foolish  Fannius,  for  a  sordid  treat 
With  sweet  Tigellius,  shall  my  verses  rate  1 
Let  Plotius,  Varius,  and  Maecenas  deign 
With  Virgil,  Valgius,  to  approve  my  strain  ; 

Let  good  Octavius  even  endure  my  lays  ;  115 

Let  Fuscus  read,  and  either  Viscus  praise  • 

Hor.  Vol.  I.— X 


242 


HORACE. 


Let  me,  with  no  mean  arts  to  purchase  fame, 
Pollio,  Messala,  and  his  brother  name : 

Let  Bibulus  and  Servins  be  my  own, 

And  Furnius  for  a  critic’s  candor  known; 
Among'  my  learned  friends  are  many  more, 
Whose  names  I  pass  in  modest  silence  o’er; 
These  I  can  wish  to  smile  ;  enjoy  their  praise  ; 
Hope  to  delight,  and  grieve  if  I  displease. 

Be  gone,  Demetrius,  to  thy  lovesome  train. 

Of  minstrel  scholars,  and  in  sighing  strain, 

With  soft  Hermogenes  these  rhymes  deplore — 
Haste,  boy,  transcribe  me  this  one  satire  more. 


BOOK  II. 

SATIRE  I  * 

Horace,  in  this  ode,  is  supposed  to  consult  Trebatius,  whether 
he  should  desist  from  writing  satires. 

Horace.  There  ere,  to  whom  too  poignant  I  appear  ; 
Beyond  the  laws  of  satire  too  severe. 

My  lines  are  weak,  unsinew’d,  others  say 
“  A  man  might  spin  a  thousand  such  a  day.” 

What  shall  I  do,  Trebatius  1  Trebalius.  Write  no 
more. 

H.  W'hat!  give  the  dear  delight  of  scribbling 
o’er  ?  5 

T.  Yes.  H.  Let  me  die  but  your  advice  were  best. 
But,  sir,  I  cannot  sleep  ;  I  cannot  rest. 

T.  Swim  o’er  the  Tiber,  if  you  want  to  sleep. 

Or  the  dull  sense  in  t’other  bottle  steep :  10 

If  you  must  write,  to  Caesar  tune  your  lays, 

Indulge  your  genius,  and  your  fortune  raise. 

H.  Oh !  were  I  equal  to  the  glorious  theme, 
Bristled  with  spears  his  iron  war  should  gleam  : 

A  thousand  darts  should  pierce  the  hardy  Gaul,  15 
And  from  his  horse  the  wounded  Parthian  fall. 

T.  Then  give  his  peaceful  virtues  forth  to  fame  j 
His  fortitude  and  justice  be  your  theme. 

*  In  his  first  book  of  satires  our  poet  opposes  the  vices  of 
mankind ;  in  this  he  refutes  the  false  opinions  of  the  philoso¬ 
phers.  Such  a  design  requires  more  force  and  more  erudition 
than  the  former.  The  reader  may  therefore  expect  to  find  this 
book  better  supported  with  reasoning  and  learning  than  the  first. 

15  The  Gauls  of  Aquitam  having  rebelled  in  726,  Octavius 
sent  Messula,  with  the  title  of  governor  of  the  province,  to  re¬ 
duce  them  to  his  obedience.  He  conquered  them  the  year  fol¬ 
lowing,  and  had  the  honour  of  a  triumph  the  twenty-fifth  of  Sep¬ 
tember. — San. 


244 


HORACE. 


H.  Yes.  I  will  hold  the  daring  theme  in  view, 
Perhaps  hereafter  your  advice  pursue.  20 

But  Caesar  never  will  your  Flaccus  hear; 

A  languid  panegyric  hurts  his  ear. 

Too  strongly  guarded  from  the  poet’s  lays, 

He  spurns  the  flatterer,  and  his  saucy  praise. 

T.  Better  even  this,  than  cruelly  defame,  25 
And  point  buffoons  and  villains  out  by  name. 

Sure  to  be  hated  even  by  those  you  spare, 

Who  hate  in  just  proportion  as  they  fear. 

H.  Tell  me,  Trebatius,  are  not  all  mankind 
To  different  pleasures,  different  whims  inclined  1  30 
Millonius  dances  when  his  head  grows  light, 

And  the  dim  lamp  shines  double  to  his  sight. 

The  twin-born  brothers  in  their  sports  divide ; 

Pollux  loves  boxing;  Castor  joys  to  ride. 

Indulge  me  then  in  this  my  sole  delight,  35 

Like  great  and  good  Lucilius  let  me  write. 

Behold  him  frankly  to  his  book  impart, 

As  to  a  friend,  the  secrets  of  his  heart : 

To  write  was  all  his  aim  ;  too  heedless  bard, 

And  well  or  ill,  unworthy  his  regard.  40 

Hence  the  old  man  stands  open  to  your  view, 
Though  with  a  careless  hand  the  piece  he  drew. 

His  steps  I  follow  in  pursuit  of  fame, 

Whether  Lucania  or  Apulia  claim 

The  honour  of  my  birth  ;  for  on  the  lands,  45 

By  Samnites  once  possess’d,  Venusium  stands, 

A  forward  barrier,  as  old  tales  relate, 

To  stop  the  course  of  war,  and  guard  the  state. 

Let  this  digression,  as  it  may,  succeed — 

No  honest  man  shall  by  my  satire  bleed ;  50 

It  guards  me  like  a  sword,  and  safe  it  lies 
Within  the  sheath,  till  villains  round  me  rise. 

Dread  king  and  father  of  the  mortal  race, 

Behold  me,  harmless  bard,  how  fond  of  peace  ! 

And  may  all  kinds  of  mischief-making  steel  55 
In  rust,  eternal  rust,  thy  vengeance  feel ! 


BOOK  II. — SATIRE  I. 


245 


But  who  provokes  me,  or  attacks  my  fame, 

“  Better  not  touch  me,  friend,”  I  loud  exclaim  ; 

His  eyes  shall  weep  the  folly  of  his  tongue, 

By  laughing'  crowds  in  rueful  ballad  sung.  60 

Th’  informer  Cervius  threatens  with  the  laws ; 
Turius  your  judge,  you  surely  lose  your  cause  : 

Are  you  the  object  of  Canidia’s  hate? 

Drugs,  poisons,  incantations,  are  your  fate : 

For  powerful  nature  to  her  creatures  shows  65 
With  various  arms  to  terrify  their  foes. 

The  wolf  with  teeth,  the  bull  with  horns  can  fight ; 
Whence,  but  from  instinct,  and  an  inward  light  ? 

His  long-lived  mother  trust  to  Scaeva’s  care — 

T.  No  deed  of  blood  his  pious  hand  could  dare.  70 
H.  Wondrous  indeed !  that  bulls  ne’er  strive  to  bite, 
Nor  wolves,  with  desperate  horns  engage  in  fight ; 
No  mother’s  blood  the  gentle  Scaeva  spills, 

But  with  a  draught  of  honey’d  poison  kills. 

Then,  whether  age  my  peaceful  hours  attend,  75 
Or  death  his  sable  pinions  round  me  bend  ; 

Or  rich,  or  poor;  at  Rome  ;  to  exile  driven  ; 
Whatever  lot  by  powerful  fate  is  given, 

Yet  write  I  will.  T.  Oh  boy,  thy  fate  is  sped,  79 
And  short  thy  days.  Some  lord  shall  strike  thee  dead, 
Whth  freezing  look —  H.  What !  in  his  honest  page 
When  good  Lucilius  lash’d  a  vicious  age, 

From  conscious  villains  tore  the  mask  away, 

And  stripp’d  them  naked  to  the  glare  of  day, 

Were  Laslius  or  his  friend,  (whose  glorious  name  85 
From  conquer’d  Carthage  deathless  rose  to  fame,) 
Were  they  displeased,  when  villains  and  their  crimes 
Were  cover’d  o’er  with  infamy  and  rhymes? 

The  factious  demagogue  he  made  his  prize, 

And  durst  the  people  tribe  by  tribe  chastise  ;  90 

Yet  true  to  virtue,  and  to  virtue’s  friends, 

To  them  alone  with  reverence  he  bends. 

When  Scipio’s  virtue,  and,  of  milder  vein, 

When  Laelius’  wisdom,  from  the  busy  scene, 

X  2 


246 


HORACE. 


And  crowd  of  life,  the  vulgar  and  the  great, 

Could  with  their  favourite  satirist  retreat,  95 

Lightly  they  laugh’d  at  many  an  idle  jest, 

Until  their  frugal  feast  of  herbs  was  dress’d. 

What  though  with  great  Lucilius  I  disclaim 
All  saucy  rivalship  of  birth  or  fame,  100 

Spite  of  herself  even  envy  must  confess 
That  I  the  friendship  of  the  great  possess, 

And,  if  she  dare  attempt  my  honest  fame, 

Shall  break  her  teeth  against  my  solid  name. 

This  is  my  plea  ;  on  this  I  rest  my  cause —  105 

What  says  my  counsel,  learned  in  the  laws  1 

T.  Your  case  is  clearer ;  yet  let  me  advise ; 

For  sad  mishaps  from  ignorance  arise. 

Behold  the  pains  and  penalties  decreed 
To  libellers —  H.  To  libellers  indeed !  110 

But,  if  with  truth  his  characters  he  draws, 

Even  Caesar  shall  support  the  poet’s  cause ; 

The  formal  process  shall  be  turn’d  to  sport, 

And  you  dismiss’d  with  honour  by  the  court. 

102  Lucilius  was  of  a  patrician  family,  and  a  Roman  knight, 
which  makes  our  poet  allow  him  a  superiority  of  birth  and  for¬ 
tune  ;  but  he  might  compare  with  him  in  more  valuable  advan¬ 
tages.  It  appears  by  some  fragments  of  letters,  that  Horace  did 
not  live  in  less  domestic  familiarity  with  Augustus  and  Maece¬ 
nas  than  Lucilius  did  with  Scipio  and  Laelius.  If  he  does  not 
boast  so  much  of  this  honour,  it  is  an  effect  of  his  discretion  and 
his  modesty. — San. 


SATIRE  TI. 

On  frugality. 

What,  and  how  great  the  virtue,  friends,  to  live 
On  what  the  gods  with  frugal  bounty  give, 

(Nor  are  they  mine,  but  sage  Ofellus’  rules 
Of  mother-wit,  and  wise  without  the  schools,) 

3  Horace,  with  much  good  reason,  avoids  making  himself  an 
orator  for  temperance.  He  was  a  speculative  Epicurean,  but  a 
practical  disciple  of  Aristippus,  and  after  giving  us  most  excel 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  II.  247 

Come  learn  with  me,  but  learn  before  ye  dine,  5 
Ere  with  luxurious  pomp  the  table  shine; 

Ere  yet  its  madding-  splendours  are  display’d, 

That  dull  the  sense,  and  the  weak  mind  mislead. 
Yet  why  before  we  dine  ?  I’ll  tell  ye,  friends, 

A  judge,  when  bribed,  but  ill  to  truth  attends.  10 
Pursue  the  chase :  th’  unmanaged  courser  rein : 
Or,  if  the  Roman  war  ill  suit  thy  vein, 

To  Grecian  revels  form’d,  at  tennis  play, 

Or  at  the  manly  discus  waste  the  day  ; 

With  vigour  hurl  it  through  the  yielding  air;  15 
(The  sport  shall  make  the  labour  less  severe  ;) 

Then,  when  the  loathings  that  from  surfeits  rise 
Are  quell’d  by  toil,  a  homely  meal  despise ; 

Then  the  Falernian  grape  with  pride  disclaim, 
Unless  with  honey  we  correct  its  flame.  20 

Your  butler  strolls  abroad;  the  winter’d  sea 
Defends  its  fish;  but  you  can  well  allay 
The  stomach’s  angry  roar  with  bread  and  salt. 
Whence  can  this  rise,  you  ask,  from  whence  the  fault? 
In  you  consists  the  pleasure  of  the  treat,  25 

Not  in  the  price,  or  flavour  of  the  meat. 

Let  exercise  give  relish  to  the  dish, 

Since  nor  the  various  luxuries  of  fish, 

Nor  foreign  wild  fowl  can  delight  the  pale, 
Surfeit-swoln  guest ;  yet  I  shall  ne’er  prevail  30 
To  make  our  men  of  taste  a  pullet  choose, 

And  the  gay  peacock  with  its  train  refuse  ; 

For  the  rare  bird  at  mighty  price  is  sold  ; 

And,  lo  !  what  wonders  from  its  tail  unfold ! 

lent  precepts  of  frugality,  would  not  unwillingly  have  left  his 
plate  of  herbs  for  a  more  luxurious  entertainment.  Besides,  he 
would  give  weight  to  his  maxims  by  the  sober  example  of  the 
speaker. — Dac. 

32  Quintus  Hortensius  was  the  first  who  gave  the  Romans  a 
taste  for  peacocks,  and  it  soon  became  so  fashionable  a  dish,  that 
all  people  of  fortune  had  it  at  their  tables.  Cicero  pleasantly 
says,  he  had  the  boldness  to  invite  Hirtius  to  sup  with  him,  even 
without  a  peacock. 


248 


HORACE. 


But  can  these  whims  a  higher  gusto  raise,  35 

Unless  you  eat  the  plumage  that  you  praise  1 
Or  do  its  glories,  when  ’tis  boil’d,  remain1? 

No ;  ’tis  til’  unequall’d  beauty  of  its  train 
Deludes  your  eye,  and  charms  you  to  the  feast, 

For  hens  and  peacocks  are  alike  in  taste  40 

But  say,  by  what  discernment  are  you  taught 
To  know  that  this  voracious  pike  was  caught 
Where  the  full  river’s  lenient  waters  glide, 

Or  where  the  bridges  break  the  rapid  tide ; 

In  the  mild  ocean,  or  where  Tiber  pays  45 

With  broader  coarse  his  tribute  to  the  seas  1 

Madly  you  praise  the  mullet’s  three  pound  weight, 
And  yet  you  stew  it  piecemeal  ere  you  eat ; 

Your  eye  deceives  you  ;  wherefore  else  dislike 
The  natural  greatness  of  a  full-grown  pike,  50 
Yet  in  a  mullet  so  much  joy  express  1 
“  Pikes  are  by  nature  large,  and  mullets  less.” 

“  Give  me,”  the  harpy-throated  glutton  cries, 

“  In  a  large  dish,  a  mullet’s  largest  size 
Descend,  ye  southern  winds,  propitious  haste,  55 
And  dress  his  dainties  for  this  man  of  taste. 

And  yet  it  needs  not ;  for  when  such  excess 
Shall  his  o’er-jaded  appetite  oppress, 

The  new-caught  turbot’s  tainted  ere  he  eat, 

And  bitter  herbs  are  a  delicious  treat.  60 

But  still  some  ancient  poverty  remains  ; 

The  egg  and  olive  yet  a  place  maintains 
At  great  men’s  tables  ;  nor,  till  late,  the  fame 
Of  a  whole  sturgeon  damn’d  a  pretor’s  name. 

Did  ocean  then  a  smaller  turbot  3neld  1  65 

The  towering  stork  did  once  in  safety  build 

66  The  storks  built  their  nest  in  safety,  until  the  time  of  Au¬ 
gustus.  Asinius  Sempronius,  or,  according  to  others,  Rutilius 
Rufus,  when  a  candidate  for  the  pretorship,  entertained  the  peo¬ 
ple  with  a  dish  of  storks.  But  the  people  revenged  the  death  of 
the  poor  birds,  by  refusing  the  pretorship  to  their  murderer 
From  this  refusal  the  poet  pleasantly  calls  him  pretor.^ Torr 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  II. 


249 


Her  airy  nest,  nor  was  the  turbot  caught 
Till  your  great  pretor  better  precepts  taught. 

Tell  them,  that  roasted  cormorants  are  a  feast, 
Our  docile  youth  obey  the  man  of  taste  ;  70 

But  sage  Ofellus  marks  a  decent  mean 
A  sordid,  and  a  frugal  meal  between  ; 

For  a  profuse  expense  in  vain  you  shun 
If  into  sordid  avarice  you  run. 

Avidienus,  who  by  public  fame  75 

Was  call’d  “the  dog,”  and  merited  the  name, 

Wild  cornels,  olives  five  years’  old,  devour’d; 

Nor,  till  his  wine  was  turn’d,  his  pure  libations  pour’d. 
When  robed  in  white  he  mark’d  with  festal  mirth 
His  day  of  marriage,  or  his  hour  of  birth,  80 

From  his  one  bottle,  of  some  two  pound  weight, 
With  oil,  of  execrable  stench,  replete, 

With  his  own  hand  he  dropp’d  his  cabbage  o’er, 

But  spared  his  oldest  vinegar  no  more. 

How  shall  the  wise  decide,  thus  urged  between  85 
The  proverb’s  ravening  wolf,  and  dog  obscene  'l 
Let  him  avoid  the  equal  wretchedness 
Of  sordid  filth,  or  prodigal  excess  ; 

Nor  his  poor  slaves  like  old  Albucius  rate, 

When  he  gives  orders  for  some  curious  treat :  90 

Nor  yet  like  Naevius,  carelessly  unclean, 

His  guests  with  greasy  water  entertain. 

This  too  is  vile.  Now  mark,  what  blessings  flow 
From  temperate  meals  ;  and  first  they  can  bestow 
That  prime  of  blessings,  health  :  for  you’ll  confess  95 
That  various  meats  the  stomach  must  oppress, 

If  you  reflect  how  light,  how  well  you  were 
When  plain  and  simple  was  your  cheerful  fare ; 

But  roast,  and  boil’d,  when  you  promiscuous  eat, 
When  fowl  and  shell-fish  in  confusion  meet,  100 

i 

89  We  know  not  either  Albucius  or  Nsevius,  but  one  was 
polite  to  affectation,  the  other  careless  to  filthiness.  Such  aro 
the  extremes  of  avarice  and  prodigality. 


250 


HORACE. 


Sweets,  turn’d  to  choler,  with  cold  phlegm  engage, 
And  civil  war  in  the  rack’d  stomach  wage. 

Behold  how  pale  the  sated  guests  arise 
From  suppers,  puzzled  with  varieties ! 

The  body  too,  with  yesterday’s  excess  105 

Burden’d  and  tired,  shall  the  pure  soul  depress ; 
Weigh  down  this  portion  of  celestial  birth, 

This  breath  of  god,  and  fix  it  to  the  earth. 

Who  down  to  sleep  from  a  short  supper  lies, 

Can  to  the  next  day’s  business  vigorous  rise,  110 
Or  jovial  wander  (when  the  circling  year 
Brings  back  some  festal  day)  to  better  cheer ; 

Or  when  his  wasted  strength  he  would  restore, 
When  years  approach,  and  age’s  feeble  hour 
A  softer  treatment  claim.  But  if  in  prime  115 
Of  youth  and  health  you  take  before  your  time 
The  luxuries  of  life,  where  is  their  aid 
When  age  or  sickness  shall  your  strength  invade? 

Our  fathers  loved  (and  yet  they  had  a  nose) 

A  tainted  boar;  but  I  believe  they  chose  120 

The  mouldy  fragments  with  a  friend  to  eat, 

Rather  than  eat  it  whole  themselves,  and  sweet. 

Oh !  that  the  earth,  when  vigorous  and  young, 

Had  borne  me  this  heroic  race  among! 

Do  you  the  voice  of  fame  with  pleasure  hear?  125 
(Sweeter  than  verse  it  charms  the  humanear;) 
Behold,  what  infamy  and  ruin  rise 
From  a  large  dish,  where  the  large  turbot  lies  ; 

Your  friends,  your  neighbours,  all  your  folly  hate, 
You  hate  yourself,  in  vain,  and  curse  your  fate,  130 
When,  though  you  wish  for  death,  you  want  the  pelf 
To  purchase  even  a  rope  to  hang  yourself. 

“  These  precepts  well  may  wretched  Trausius  rate ; 
But  why  to  me?  So  large  is  my  estate, 

107  To  raise  the  nobleness  of  the  mind,  Horace  has  borrowed 
the  language  of  Plato,  who  says  that  it  is  a  portion  of  the  uni¬ 
versal  soul  of  the  world,  that  is,  of  the  Divinity  himself. — San. 


BOOK  II. — SATIRE  II. 


251 

135 


And  such  an  ample  revenue  it  brings 
To  satiate  even  the  avarice  of  kings.” 

Then  why  not  better  use  this  proud  excess 
Of  worthless  wealth  1  Why  lives  in  deep  distress 
A  man  unworthy  to  be  poor,  or  why 
The  temples  of  the  gods  in  ruins  lie  1  140 

Why  not  of  such  a  massy  treasure  spare 
To  thy  dear  country,  wretch,  a  moderate  share  ? 
Shalt  thou  alone  no  change  of  fortune  know? 

Thou  future  laughter  to  th}7-  deadliest  foe ! 

But  who,  with  conscious  spirit  self-secure,  145 
A  change  of  fortune  better  shall  endure  ? 

He,  who  with  such  variety  of  food 
Pampers  his  passions,  and  inflames  his  blood; 

Or  he,  contented  with  his  little  store, 

And  wisely  cautious  of  the  future  hour,  150 

Who  in  the  time  of  peace  with  prudent  care 
Shall  for  th’  extremities  of  war  prepare  ? 

But,  deeper  to  impress  this  useful  truth, 

I  knew  the  sage  Ofellus  in  my  youth, 

Living,  when  wealthy,  at  no  larger  rate  155 

Than  in  his  present  more  contracted  state. 

I  saw  the  hardy  hireling  till  the  ground, 

(’Twas  once  his  own  estate,)  and  while  around 
His  cattle  grazed,  and  children  listening  stood, 

The  cheerful  swain  his  pleasing  tale  pursued.  160 
On  working-days  I  had  no  idle  treat, 

But  a  smoked  leg  of  pork  and  greens  I  eat ; 

Yet  when  arrived  some  long-expected  guest, 

Or  rainy  weather  gave  an  hour  of  rest, 

If  a  kind  neighbour  then  a  visit  paid,  165 

An  entertainment  more  profuse  I  made; 

Though  with  a  kid  or  pullet  well  content, 

Ne’er  for  luxurious  fish  to  Rome  I  sent; 

With  nuts  and  figs  I  crown’d  the  cheerful  board, 

The  largest  that  the  season  could  afford.  170 

The  social  glass  went  round  with  cheerfulness, 

And  our  sole  rule  was  to  avoid  excess. 


252 


HORACE. 


Our  due  libations  were  to  Ceres  paid, 

To  bless  our  com,  and  fill  the  rising  blade, 

While  the  gay  wine  dispell’d  each  anxious  care,  175 
And  smooth’d  the  wrinkled  forehead  too  severe. 

Let  fortune  rage,  and  new  disorders  make, 

From  such  a  life  how  little  can  she  take  ? 

Or  have  we  lived  at  a  more  frugal  rate 

Since  this  new  stranger  seized  on  our  estate  1  180 

Nature  will  no  perpetual  heir  assign, 

Or  make  the  farm  his  property  or  mine. 

He  turn’d  us  out :  but  follies  all  his  own, 

Or  lawsuits,  and  their  knaveries  unknown; 

Or,  all  his  follies  and  his  lawsuits  pass’d,  185 

Some  long-lived  heir  shall  turn  him  out  at  last. 

The  farm,  once  mine,  now  bears  Umbrenus’  name ; 
The  use  alone,  not  property  we  claim  ; 

Then  be  not  with  your  present  lot  depress’d, 

And  meet  the  future  with  undaunted  breast.  190 


SATIRE  III. 

Damasippus,  in  a  conversation  with  Horace,  proves  the  para-, 
dox  of  the  stoics,  that  most  men  are  actually  mad. 

Damasippus .  If  hardly  once  a  quarter  of  a  year, 

So  idle  grown,  a  single  sheet  appear  ; 

If  angry  at  yourself,  that  sleep  and  wine 
Enjoy  your  hours,  while  anxious  to  refine 
Your  labours  past,  no  more  your  voice  you  raise  5 
To  aught  that  may  deserve  the  public  praise, 

What  shall  be  done  1  When  Saturn’s  jovial  feast 
Seem’d  too  luxuriant  to  your  sober  taste, 

Hither  you  fled.  Then  try  the  pleasing  strain  : 
Come  on :  begin.  Horace.  Alas  !  ’tis  all  in  vain,  10 
While  I  with  impotence  of  rage  abuse 
My  harmless  pens,  the  guitless  walls  accuse ; 

Walls  that  seem’d  raised  in  angry  Heaven’s  despite. 
The  curse  of  peevish  poets,  when  they  write. 


BOOK  II. - ODE  III. 


253 


D.  And  yet  you  threaten’d  something  wondrous 
great  15 

When  you  should  warm  you  in  your  country-seat. 
Why  crowd  the  volumes  of  the  Grecian  sage, 
Ranged  with  the  writers  of  the  comic  stage  1 
Think  you  the  wrath  of  envy  to  appease, 

Your  virtue  lost  in  idleness  and  ease  1  20 

Unhappy  bard !  to  sure  contempt  you  run ; 

Then  learn  the  siren  indolence  to  shun, 

Or  poorly  be  content  to  lose  the  fame, 

Which  your  past  hours  of  better  life  might  claim. 

H.  Sage  Damasippus,  may  the  powers  divine,  25 
For  this  same  excellent  advice  of  thine, 

Give  thee  a  barber,  in  their  special  grace, 

To  nurse  your  beard,  that  wisdom  of  the  face ! 

Yet,  prithee,  tell  me  whence  I’m  so  well  known. 

D.  W'hen  I  had  lost  all  business  of  my  own,  30 
And  at  th’  exchange  my  shipwreck’d  fortune  broke, 

I  minded  the  affairs  of  other  folk. 

In  rare  antiquities  full  curious  was  my  taste  ; 

Here  the  rude  chisel’s  rougher  strokes  1  traced ; 

In  flowing  brass  a  vicious  hardness  found,  35 

Or  bought  a  statue  for  five  hundred  pound, 

A  perfect  connoisseur.  At  gainful  rate, 

I  purchased  gardens,  or  a  mansion-seat. 

Thus,  through  the  city  was  I  known  to  fame, 

And  Mercury’s  favourite  my  public  name.  40 

H.  I  knew  your  illness,  and  amazed  beheld 
Your  sudden  cure.  D .  A  new  disease  expell’d 
My  old  disorder,  as  when  changing  pains 
Fly  to  the  stomach  from  the  head  and  reins. 

Thus  the  lethargic,  starting  from  his  bed,  45 

In  boxing  phrensy  broke  his  doctor’s  head. 

H.  Spare  but  this  phrensy,  use  me  as  you  please — 
D.  Good  sir,  don’t  triumph  in  your  own  disease. 

27  Our  poet  knows  not  better  how  to  express  his  gratitude 
for  the  solemn,  charitable  advices,  that  Damasippu-s  had  given 
him,  than  by  wishing  him  a  good  barber  ;  for  the  stoics  valued 
nothing  so  much  as  this  wise  and  venerable  length  of  hair. 
Hor.  Vol.  I.— Y 


254 


HORACE. 


For  all  are  fools  or  mad,  as  well  as  you, 

At  least,  if  what  Stertinius  says  be  true,  50 

Whose  wondrous  precepts  I  with  transport  heard 
What  time  he  bade  me  nurse  this  reverend  beard 
Cheerful  from  the  Fabrician  bridge  depart, 

And  with  the  words  of  comfort  fill’d  my  heart. 

For  when,  my  fortune  lost,  resolved  1  stood,  55 
Covering  my  head,  to  plunge  into  the  flood, 
Propitious  he  addressed  me —  Stertinius.  Friend, 
take  heed, 

Nor  wrong  yourself  by  this  unworthy  deed. 

’Tis  but  a  vicious  modesty  to  fear 

Among  the  mad  a  madman  to  appear.  60 

But  listen  heedful  first,  while  I  explain 

What  madness  is,  what  error  of  the  brain  ; 

And  if  in  you  alone  appear  its  power. 

Then  bravely  perish  :  1  shall  say  no  more. 

Whom  vicious  follies,  or  whom  falsehood,  blind,  65 
Are  by  the  stoics  held  of  madding  kind. 

All  but  the  wise  are  by  this  process  bound, 

The  subject  nations,  and  the  monarch  crown’d, 

And  they,  who  call  you  fool,  with  equal  claim 
May  plead  an  ample  title  to  the  name.  70 

When  in  a  wood  we  leave  the  certain  way, 

One  error  fools  us,  though  we  various  stray 
Some  to  the  left,  some  turn  to  t’other  side  ; 

So  he,  who  dares  thy  madness  to  deride, 

Though  you  may  frankly  own  yourself  a  fool,  75 
Behind  him  trails  his  mark  of  ridicule. 

For  various  follies  fill  the  human  breast. 

As,  with  unreal  terrors  when  possess’d, 

A  wretch  in  superstitious  phrensy  cries, 

“  Lo  !  in  the  plain,  fires,  rocks,  and  rivers  rise  !”  80 
A  different  madness,  though  not  less,  inspires 
The  fool,  who  rushes  wild  through  streams  and  fires  ; 
His  mother,  sister,  father,  friends,  and  wife, 

Cry  out,  in  vain,  “  Ah  !  yet  preserve  thy  life ; 

That  headlong  ditch !  how  dreadful  it  appears  !  85 

That  hanging  precipice  !”  No  more  he  hears, 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  III. 


255 


Than  drunken  Fufius  lately  at  the  play, 

Who  fairly  slept  Ilione  away, 

While  the  full  pit,  with  clamorous  thousands  cries, 

“  Awake,  dear  mother,  to  my  aid  arise.”  90 

Now  listen  while  full  clearly  I  maintain 
Such  is  the  vulgar  error  of  the  brain. 

Some  rare  antique,  suppose  your  madness  buys  ; 

Is  he,  who  lends  the  money,  less  unwise  1 

Or  if  the  usurer  Perilius  said,  95 

“  Take  what  I  ne’er  expect  shall  be  repaid,” 

Are  you  a  fool  to  take  it,  or  not  more 
T’  affront  the  god  who  sends  the  shining  store  ? 

Perilius.  Ay;  but  I  make  him  on  a  banker  draw — 

*S.  ’Tis  not  enough :  add  all  the  forms  of  law  ;  100 
The  knotty  contracts  of  Cicuta’s  brain, 

This  wicked  Proteus  shall  escape  the  chain  : 

Drag  him  to  justice,  he’s  a  bird,  tree,  stone, 

And  laughs,  as  if  his  cheeks  were  not  his  own. 

If  bad  economists  are  held  unwise,  105 

In  good  economy  some  wisdom  lies, 

And  then  Perilius  is  of  tainted  brain, 

Who  takes  your  bond,  to  sue  for  it  in  vain. 

Come  all,  whose  breasts  with  bad  ambition  rise, 
Or  the  pale  passion,  that  for  money  dies,  110 

With  luxury,  or  superstition’s  gloom, 

Whate’er  disease  your  health  of  mind  consume, 
Compose  your  robes  ;  in  decent  ranks  draw  near, 
And,  that  ye  all  are  mad,  with  reverence  hear. 

Misers  make  whole  Anticyra  their  own :  115 

It’s  hellebore  reserved  for  them  alone. 

87  Fufius,  such  is  the  name  in  seven  manuscripts,  was  an 
actor,  who,  playing  the  character  of  Ilione,  was  supposed  to  be 
asleep,  when  the  ghost  of  her  son  Polydore  called  to  her,  “  Dear 
mother,  hear  me  !”  Fufius  having  drunk  too  much,  fell  really 
asleep ;  and  Catienus,  who  played  Polydore,  having  called  to 
him,  without  waking  him,  the  whole  house,  as  if  each  of  them 
was  a  Catienus,  cried  out,  “  Dear  mother,  hear  me  !” 

116  Hellebore  was  not  only  used  in  sickness  by  the  ancients, 
but  to  give  force  and  vigour  to  the  wit  when  they  were  in  health. 
Valerius  Maximus  tells  us  Carneadas  used  it  with  great  success, 


256 


HORACE. 


Staberins  thus  compell’d  his  heirs  t’  engrave 
On  his  proud  tomb  what  legacies  he  gave, 

Or  stand  condemn’d  to  give  the  crowd  a  feast, 

By  Arrius  form’d  in  elegance  of  taste,  120 

And  gladiators,  even  a  hundred  pair, 

With  all  the  corn  of  Afric’s  fruitful  year. 

“  Such  is  my  will,  and  whether  fool  or  wise, 

I  scorn  your  censures,”  the  testator  cries, 

Wisely  perceiving —  D.  What  could  he  perceive, 
Thus  on  his  tomb  his  fortune  to  engrave  1  126 

&.  Long  as  he  lived  he  look’d  on  poverty, 

And  shunn’d  it  as  a  crime  of  blackest  die; 

And  had  he  died  one  farthing  less  in  pelf, 

Had  seem’d  a  worthless  villain  to  himself;  130 

For  virtue,  glory,  beauty,  all  divine 

And  human  powers,  immortal  gold  are  thine  ! 

And  he,  who  piles  the  shining  heap,  shall  rise 
Noble,  brave,  just —  D.  You  will  not  call  him  wise. 
S.  Yes;  anything;  a  monarch,  if  he  please  •  135 

And  thus  Staberius,  nobly  fond  of  praise, 

By  latest  times  might  hope  to  be  admired, 

As  if  his  virtue  had  his  wealth  acquired. 

When  Aristippus,  on  the  Lybian  waste 
Commands  his  slaves,  because  it  stopp’d  their  haste, 
To  throw  away  his  gold,  does  he  not  seem  141 
To  be  as  mad,  in  opposite  extreme  1 
D.  By  such  examples  truth  can  ne’er  be  tried  : 

They  but  perplex  the  question,  not  decide. 

S.  If  a  man  fill’d  his  cabinet  with  lyres,  145 

Whom  neither  music  charms,  nor  muse  inspires ; 
Should  he  buy  lasts  and  knives,  who  never  made 
A  shoe ;  or  if  a  wight,  who  hated  trade, 

The  sails  and  tackle  for  a  vessel  bought, 

Madman  or  fool  he  might  be  justly  thought.  150 
But,  prithee,  where’s  the  difference  to  behold 
A  wretch,  who  heaps  and  hides  his  darling  gold  ; 

whenever  he  was  to  dispute  with  Chrysippus,  from  whence  it 
was  in  great  esteem  among  all  who  had  a  passion  for  solid 
praise. 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  III. 


257 


Who  knows  not  how  to  use  the  massy  store, 

Yet  dreads  to  violate  the  sacred  ore] 

With  a  long  club,  and  ever-open  eyes,  155 

To  guard  his  corn  its  wretched  master  lies, 

Nor  dares,  though  hungry,  touch  the  hoarded  grain, 
While  bitter  herbs  his  frugal  life  sustain  ; 

If  in  his  cellar  lie  a  thousand  flasks 

(Nay,  let  them  rise  to  thrice  a  thousand  casks)  160 

Of  old  Falernian,  or  the  Chian  vine, 

Yet  if  he  drink  mere  vinegar  for  wine ; 

If,  at  fourscore,  of  straw  he  made  his  bed, 

While  moths  upon  his  rotting  carpet  fed, 

By  few,  forsooth,  a  madman  he  is  thought,  165 
For  half  mankind  the  same  disease  have  caught. 

Thou  dotard,  cursed  in  the  love  of  pelf, 

For  fear  of  starving,  will  you  starve  yourself  ] 

Or  do  you  this  ill-gotten  treasure  save 

For  a  luxurious  son  or  favourite  slave  ]  170 

How  little  would  thy  mass  of  money  waste, 

Did  you  on  better  oil  and  cabbage  feast, 

Or  on  thy  clotted  hair,  and  dandruff  head, 

A  sweeter,  more  expensive  essence  shed] 

If  nature  wish  for  no  immoderate  store,  175 
When  you  forswear,  and  rob,  and  steal  for  more, 
Still  are  you  sound  ]  But,  when  your  folly  raves, 

If  you  should  stone  the  people,  or  your  slaves ; 
Those  slaves,  whom  you  with  pelf,  how  precious ! 
buy, 

Our  boys  and  girls  “  A  madman !  madman  !”  cry.  180 
Is  your  head  safe,  although  you  hang  your  wife, 

Or  take  by  poison  your  old  mother’s  life  ] 

What !  nor  in  Argos  you  commit  the  deed, 

Nor  did  your  mother  by  a  dagger  bleed ; 

Nor  by  a  mad  Orestes  was  she  slain —  185 

But  was  Orestes  of  untainted  brain, 

Or  was  he  not  by  furies  dire  possess’d 
Before  he  plunged  his  dagger  in  her  breast  ] 

Yet  from  the  time  you  hold  him  hurt  in  mind, 

His  actions  are  of  harmless,  blameless  kind.  190 

Y  2 


258 


HORACE. 


He  neither  stabs  his  sister,  nor  his  friend  ; 

In  a  few  curses  his  worst  passions  end  ; 

He  calls  her  fury,  or  whatever  names 

Flow  from  a  breast,  which  choler  high  inflames. 

Poor  was  Opimius,  though  full  rich  his  chest,  195 
In  earthen  cups,  on  some  more  solemn  feast, 

Quaff’d  the  crude  juices  of  a  meager  vine, 

On  week-days  dead  and  vapid  was  his  wine, 

When  with  a  heavy  lethargy  oppress’d, 

His  heir  in  triumph  ran  from  chest  to  chest :  200 

Swift  to  his  aid  his  faithful  doctor  flies, 

And  this  expedient  to  awake  him  tries ; 

From  out  his  bags  pours  out  the  shining  store, 

And  bids  a  crowd  of  people  count  it  o’er ; 

Then  placed  the  table  near  his  patient’s  bed,  205 
And  loud,  as  if  he  roused  him  from  the  dead, 

“  Awake !  and  guard  your  wealth ;  this  moment 
wake  ! 

Your  ravening  heir  will  every  shilling  take.” 

“  What !  while  I  live  1”  “  Then  wake,  that  you  may 
live : 

Here,  take  the  best  prescription  I  can  give.  210 
Your  bloodless  veins,  your  appetite  will  fail, 

Unless  you  raise  them  by  a  powerful  meal. 

Take  this  ptisane — ”  “What  will  it  cost?  Nay, 
hold !” 

“  A  very  trifle.”  “  Sir,  I  will  be  told.” 

“  Three  pence.”  “  Alas  !  what  does  it  signify  215 
Whether  by  doctors  or  by  thieves  I  die  ?” 

D.  Who  then  is  sound  ?  Whoever’s  not  a  fool. 

D.  What  think  you  of  the  miser?  S.  By  my  rule 
Both  fool  and  madman.  D.  Is  he  sound  and  well, 

If  not  a  miser  1  S.  No.  D.  I  prithee  tell,  220 
Good  stoic,  why  ?  S.  Let  us  suppose  you  heard 
An  able  doctor,  who  perchance  declared 
His  patient’s  stomach  good  ;  yet  shall  he  rise, 

Or,  is  he  well  ?  Ah  !  no,  the  doctor  cries, 

Because  a  keen  variety  of  pains 
Attack  the  wretch’s  side,  or  vex  his  reins. 


225 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  III.  259 

You  are  not  perjured,  nor  to  gold  a  slave  ; 

Let  Heaven  your  grateful  sacrifice  receive. 

But  if  your  breast  with  bold  ambition  glows, 

Set  sail  where  hellebore  abundant  grows  ;  230 

For,  prithee,  say,  what  difference  can  you  find, 
Whether  to  scoundrels  of  the  vilest  kind 
You  throw  away  your  wealth  in  lewd  excess, 

Or  know  not  to  enjoy  what  you  possess  1 
When  rich  Oppidius,  as  old  tales  relate,  235 
To  his  two  sons  divided  his  estate, 

Two  ancient  farms,  he  called  them  to  his  bed, 

And  dying,  thus, with  faltering  accent,  said  : 

“  In  your  loose  robe  when  I  have  seen  your  bear 
Your  playthings,  Aulus,  with  an  heedless  air,  240 
Or  carelesss  give  them  to  your  friends  away, 

Or  with  a  gamester’s  desperate  spirit  play  ; 

While  you,  Tiberius,  anxious  counted  o’er 
Your  childish  wealth,  and  hid  the  little  store, 

A  different  madness  seem’d  to  be  your  fate,  245 
Misers  or  spendthrifts  born  to  imitate. 

Then,  by  our  household  gods,  my  sons,  I  charge, 
That  you  ne’er  lessen,  that  you  ne’er  enlarge 
What  seems  sufficient  for  your  tender  sire, 

And  nature’s  most  unbounded  wants  require.  250 
“  Then,  lest  ambition  tempt  ye,  hear  this  oath, 

By  whose  eternal  power  I  bind  ye  both  : 

Cursed  be  the  wretch,  an  object  of  my  hate, 
Whoe’er  accepts  an  office  in  the  state. 

Will  you  in  largesses  exhaust  your  store,  255 

That  you  may  proudly  stalk  the  circus  o’erl 
Or  in  the  capitol  embronzed  may  stand, 

Spoil’d  of  your  fortune  and  paternal  land  1 
And  thus,  forsooth,  Agrippa’s  praise  engage, 

Or  show,  with  reynard’s  tricks,  the  lion’s  rage!”260 
Wherefore  does  Ajax  thus  unburied  lie  1 
Agamemnon.  We  are  a  king.  A  base  plebeian  I, 
And  ask  no  more.  A.  ’Twas  just  what  we  decreed ; 
But,  if  you  think  it  an  unrighteous  deed,  264 


£60 


HORACE. 


Speak  what  you  think.  We  here  our  rights  resign. 
<S.  Greatest  of  monarchs,  may  the  powers  divine 
A  safe  return  permit  you  to  enjoy, 

With  your  victorious  fleet  from  ruin’d  Troy ! 

But  may  I  ask  and  answer  without  fear  1 
A.  You  may.  Then  wherefore  rots  great  Ajax 
here,  270 

For  many  a  Grecian  saved  who  well  might  claim 
To  brave  Achilles  the  next  place  in  fame  1 
Is  it  that  Priam,  and  the  sires  of  Troy, 

May  view  his  carcass  with  malignant  joy, 

.By  whom  their  sons  so  oft  destroy’d  in  fight  275 
In  their  own  country  want  the  funeral  rite  1 
A.  A  thousand  sheep  the  frantic  kill’d  and  cried, 

“  Here  both  Atrides  ;  there  Ulysses  died.” 

»S.  When  your  own  child  you  to  the  altar  led, 

And  pour’d  the  salted  meal  upon  her  head ;  280 

When  you  beheld  the  lovely  victim  slain. 

Unnatural  father  !  were  you  sound  of  brain  ? 

A.  Why  not  ?  S.  Then  what  did  frantic  Ajax  do, 
When  in  his  rage  a  thousand  sheep  he  slew! 

Nor  on  his  wife  or  son  he  drew  his  sword,  285 
On  Atreus’  sons  alone  his  curses  pour’d; 

Nor  on  his  brother  turned  the  vengeful  steel, 

Nor  did  Ulysses  his  resentment  feel. 

A.  But  I,  while  adverse  winds  tempestuous  roar, 

To  loose  our  fated  navy  from  the  shore  290 

Wisely  with  blood  the  powers  divine  atone — 

S.  What!  your  own  blood,  you  madman !  A.  Yes, 
my  own ; 

But  yet  not  mad.  S.  ’Tis  a  disorder’d  head, 

Which,  by  the  passions  in  confusion  led, 

The  images  of  right  and  wrong  mistakes,  295 

And  rage  or  folly  no  great  difference  makes. 

Was  Ajax  mad  when  those  poor  lambs  he  slew  1 
And  are  your  senses  right,  while  you  pursue 
With  such  a  crime  an  empty  title’s  fame  ? 

Is  the  heart  pure,  high-swelling  for  a  name  1  300 


BOOK  II. - SA.TIAE  III. 


261 


Should  a  man  take  a  lambkin  in  his  chair, 

With  fondling  names  caress  the  spotless  fair  ; 
Clothes,  maids,  and  gold,  as  for  his  child,  provide, 
And  a  stout  husband  for  the  lovely  bride, 

His  civil  rights  the  judge  would  take  away,  305 
And  to  trustees  in  guardianship  convey. 

Then  sure  you  will  not  call  him  sound  of  brain, 

By  whom  his  daughter  for  a  lamb  was  slain. 

Folly  and  guilt  are  madness  in  th’  extreme  ; 

The  impious  and  the  mad  eternally  the  same.  310 
Blood-stain’d  Bellona  thunders  round  his  head, 

Who  is  by  glassy  fame  a  captive  led. 

Now  try  the  sons  of  luxury,  you’ll  find 
Right  reason  proves  them  fools  of  madding  kind. 

A  youth,  upon  his  father’s  death,  receives  315 

A  thousand  talents,  and  his  orders  gives 
That  all  the  trades  of  elegance  and  taste, 

All  who  with  wit  and  humour  joy  a  feast, 

The  impious  crowd,  that  fills  the  Tuscan  street, 
Early  next  morning  at  his  house  should  meet.  320 
What  then!  They  frequent  his  command  obey’d, 
And  thus  his  speech  the  wily  pander  made  : 

“  Whate’er  these  people  have  :  whate’er  is  mine  ; 
To-day,  to-morrow  send,  be  sure  is  thine.” 

Hear  the  just  youth  this  generous  answer  make  : 

“  In  clumsy  boots,  dear  hunter,  for  my  sake,  326 
You  sleep  in  wild  Lucania’s  snowy  waste, 

That  I  at  night  on  a  whole  boar  may  feast. 

For  fish  you  boldly  sweep  the  wintry  seas, 

That  I,  unworthy,  may  enjoy  my  ease.  330 

Let  each  five  hundred  pounds,  with  pleasure,  take, 
To  thee,  dear  pander,  I  a  present  make 
Of  twice  a  thousand,  that  with  all  her  charms 
Your  wife  at  night  may  run  into  my  arms.” 

An  actor’s  son  dissolved  a  wealthy  pearl  335 
(The  precious  ear-ring  of  his  favourite  girl) 

In  vinegar,  and  thus  luxurious  quaff’d 
A  thousand  solid  talents  at  a  draught. 


262 


HORACE. 


Had  he  not  equally  his  wisdom  shown, 

Into  the  sink  or  river  were  it  thrown"?  340 

A  noble  pair  of  brothers,  twins,  in  truth, 

In  all  th’  excesses,  trifles,  crimes  of  youth, 

On  nightingales  of  monstrous  purchase  dined  ; 

What  is  their  process  1  Are  they  sound  of  mind1? 

Suppose,  in  childish  architecture  skill’d,  345 

A  bearded  sage  his  castle-cottage  build, 

Play  odd  and  even,  ride  his  reedy  cane, 

And  yoke  his  harness’d  mice,  ’tis  madness  plain. 

But  what  if  reason,  powerful  reason,  prove 
’Tis  more  than  equal  childishness  to  love  1  350 

If  there’s  no  difference,  whether  in  the  dust 
You  sport  your  infant  works,  or,  high  in  lust, 

A  harlot’s  cruelty  with  tears  deplore, 

Will  you,  like  much  changed  Polemon  of  yore, 
Throw  off  the  ensigns  of  the  dear  disease,  355 
The  arts  of  dress  and  earnestness  to  please  1 
For  the  gay  youth,  though  high  with  liquor  warm’d, 
Was  by  the  sober  sage’s  doctrine  charmed  ; 
Chastised  he  listen’d  to  th’  instructive  lore, 

And  from  his  head  the  breathing  garland  tore.  360 
A  peevish  boy  shall  proffer’d  fruit  despise  ; 

“  Take  it,  dear  puppy  !”  No,  and  yet  he  cries, 

If  you  refuse  it.  Does  not  this  discover 
The  froward  soul  of  a  discarded  lover, 

Thus  reasoning  with  himself  1  What!  when  thus 
slighted,  365 

Shall  I  return,  return  though  uninvited  ! 


354  Polemon  was  a  young  Athenian,  who,  running  one  day 
through  the  streets,  inflamed  with  wine,  had  the  curiosity  to  go 
into  the  school  of  Xenocrates  to  hear  him.  The  philosophei 
dexterously  turned  his  discourse  on  sobriety,  and  spoke  with  so 
much  force,  that  Polemon  from  that  moment  renounced  his  in¬ 
temperance,  and  pursued  his  studies  with  such  application,  as 
to  succeed  Xenocrates  in  his  school.  Thus,  as  Valerius  Maxi¬ 
mus  remarks,  being  cured  by  the  wholesome  medicine  of  one 
oration,  he  became  a  celebrated  philosopher  from  an  infamous 
prodigal. 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  III. 


263 


Yes,  he  shall  sure  return,  and  lingering  wait 
At  the  proud  doors  he  now  presumes  to  hate. 

“  Shall  I  not  go  if  she  submissive  send, 

Or  here  resolve  my  injuries  shall  end  ?  370 

Expell’d,  recall’d,  shall  I  go  back  again? 

No  ;  let  her  kneel ;  for  she  shall  kneel  in  vain.” 
When,  lo  !  his  wily  servant  well  replied  : 

“  Think  not  by  rule  and  reason,  sir,  to  guide 
What  ne’er  by  reason  or  by  measure  move,  375 
For  peace  and  war  succeed  by  turns  in  love  ; 

And  while  tempestuous  these  emotions  roll, 

And  float  with  blind  disorder  in  the  soul, 

Who  strives  to  fix  them  by  one  certain  rule, 

May  by  right  rule  and  reason  play  the  fool.  380 
When  from  the  roof  the  darted  pippins  bound, 
Does  the  glad  omen  prove  your  senses  sound? 

Or  when  with  aged  tongue  you  lisp  your  phrases, 

Is  he  more  mad,  who  that  child-cottage  raises  ? 

Then  add  the  murders  of  this  fond  desire,  385 

And  with  the  sword  provoke  the  madding  fire. 

When  jealous  Marius  late  his  mistress  slew, 

And  from  a  precipice  himself  he  threw, 

Was  he  not  mad,  or  can  you  by  your  rule 
Condemn  the  murderer,  and  acquit  the  fool  ?  390 

But  though  in  civil  phrase  you  change  the  name, 
Madman  and  fool  for  ever  are  the  same. 

With  hands  clean  washed,  a  sober,  ancient  wight 
Ran  praying  through  the  streets  at  early  light, 

“  Snatch  me  from  death  ;  grant  me  alone  to  live  ; 

No  mighty  boon  ;  with  ease  the  gods  can  give  !”  396 
Sound  were  his  senses  ;  yet  if  he  were  sold, 

His  master  sure  this  weakness  must  have  told, 

And  if  not  fond  a  lawsuit  to  maintain. 

Must  have  confess’d  the  slave  unsound  of  brain.  400 
This  crowd  is  by  the  doctrine  of  our  schools 
Enroll’d  in  the  large  family  of  fools. 

Her  child  beneath  a  quartan  fever  lies 
For  full  five  months,  when  the  fond  mother  cries, 


264 


HORACE. 


“  Sickness  and  health  are  thine,  all  powerful  Jove, 
Then  from  my  son  this  dire  disease  remove,  406 
And  when  your  priests  thy  solemn  fast  proclaim, 
Naked  the  boy  shall  stand  in  Tiber’s  stream.” 
Should  chance,  or  the  physician’s  art  upraise 
Her  infant  from  this  desperate  disease,  410 

The  frantic  dame  shall  plunge  her  hapless  boy, 
Bring  back  the  fever,  and  the  child  destroy. 

Tell  me  what  horrors  thus  have  turn’d  her  head  1 
Of  the  good  gods  a  superstitious  dread. 

D.  These  arms  Stertinius  gave  me,  our  eighth  sage. 
That  none  unpunish’d  may  provoke  my  rage  ;  416 

Who  calls  me  mad,  shall  hear  himself  a  fool, 

And  know  he  trails  his  mark  of  ridicule. 

H.  Great  stoic,  so  may  better  bargains  raise 
Your  ruined  fortune,  tell  me,  if  you  please,  420 
Since  follies  are  thus  various  in  their  kind, 

To  what  dear  madness  am  I  most  inclined  ? 

For  I,  methinks,  my  reason  well  maintain — 

D.  What !  did  Agave  then  suspect  her  brain, 

When  by  a  bacchanalian  phrensy  led,  425 

In  her  own  hand  she  carried  her  son’s  head  1 
H.  Since  we  must  yield  to  truth,  ’tis  here  confess’d, 

I  am  a  fool ;  with  madness  too  possess’d  ; 

But  since  my  mind’s  distemper’d,  if  you  please, 
What  seems  the  proper  kind  of  my  disease?  430 
D.  First  that  you  build,  and,  scarce  of  two  feet  height, 
Mimic  the  mighty  stature  of  the  great ; 

While  you,  forsooth,  a  dwarf  in  arms,  deride 
His  haughty  spirit  and  gigantic  stride. 

Yet  are  you  less  ridiculous,  who  dare,  435 

Mere  mimic,  with  Maecenas  to  compare. 

It  chanced,  a  mother-frog  had  strolled  abroad, 
When  a  fell  ox  upon  her  young  ones  trod  ; 

And  only  one  escaped,  who  thus  expressed 
The  doleful  news — “  Ah  me  !  a  monstrous  beast  440 
My  brothers  hath  destroy’d.”  “  How  large  ?”  she 
cries, 

And  swelling  forth — “  was  this  the  monster’s  size  1” 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  IV. 


265 


Then  larger  grows — “  What !  is  he  larger  still 
When  more  and  more  she  strives  her  bulk  to  fill: 

“  Nay,  though  you  burst,  you  ne’er  shall  be  so  great.” 
No  idle  image,  Horace,  of  thy  state.  446 

Your  verses  too;  that  oil  which  feeds  the  flame; 

If  ever  bard  was  wise,  be  thine  the  name. 

That  horrid  rage  of  temper —  H.  Yet  have  done  ! 

D.  That  vast  expense —  H.  Good  stoic,  mind  your 
own.  450 

jD.  Those  thousand  furious  passions  for  the  fair — 
H.  Thou  mightier  fool,  inferior  idiots  spare  ! 


SATIRE  IV. 

The  poet  ridicules  one  Catius,  who  placed  the  summit  ol 
human  felicity  in  the  culinary  art. 

Horace.  Whence  comes  my  Catius?  whither  in  such 
haste  ? 

Catius.  I  have  no  time  in  idle  prate  to  waste. 

I  must  away  to  treasure  in  my  mind 
A  set  of  precepts,  noble  and  refined ; 

Such  as  Pythagoras  could  never  reach,  5 

Nor  Socrates,  nor  scienced  Plato  teach. 

H.  I  ask  your  pardon,  and  confess  my  crime, 

To  interrupt  you  at  so  cross  a  time. 

But  yet,  if  aught  escaped  through  strange  neglect, 
You  shall  with  ease  the  wisdom  recollect,  jo 

Whether  you  boast  from  nature  or  from  art 
This  wondrous  gift  of  holding  things  by  heart. 

C.  I  meant  to  store  them  total  in  my  head, 

The  matter  nice,  and  wrought  of  subtle  thread. 

H.  But,  prithee,  Catius,  what’s  your  sage’s  name  ? 
Is  he  a  Roman,  or  of  foreign  fame  ?  16 

C.  His  precepts  I  shall  willingly  reveal, 

And  sing  his  doctrines,  but  his  name  conceal. 

Long  be  your  eggs,  far  sweeter  than  the  round, 
Cock-eggs  they  are,  nourishing  and  sound.  20 

Hor.  Vol.  I.— Z 


266 


HORACE. 


In  thirsty  fields  a  richer  colewort  grows 
Than  where  the  watery  garden  overflows. 

If  by  an  evening  guest  perchance  surprised, 

Lest  the  tough  hen  (I  pray  you  be  advised) 

Should  quarrel  with  his  teeth,  let  her  be  drown’d  25 
In  lees  of  wine,  and  she’ll  be  tender  found. 

Best  flavour’d  mushrooms  meadow  land  supplies, 

In  other  kinds  a  dangerous  poison  lies. 

He  shall  with  vigour  bear  the  summer’s  heat, 

Who  after  dinner  shall  be  sure  to  eat  30 

His  mulberries,  of  blackest,  ripest  dies, 

And  gather’d  ere  the  morning  sun  arise. 

Aufidius  first,  most  injudicious,  quaff’d 
Strong  wine  and  honey  for  his  morning  draught. 
With  lenient  beverage  fill  your  empty  veins,  35 
And  smoother  mead  shall  better  scour  the  reins. 
Sorrel  and  white  wine,  if  you  costive  prove, 

And  muscles,  all  obstructions  shall  remove. 

In  the  new  moon  all  shell-fish  fill  with  juice ; 

But  not  all  seas  the  richer  sort  produce  ;  40 

The  largest  in  the  Lucrinelake  we  find, 

But  the  Circoean  are  of  sweeter  kind. 

Crayfish  are  best  on  the  Misenian  coasts, 

And  soft  Tarentum  broadest  scollops  boasts. 

If  not  exact  and  elegant  of  taste,  45 

Let  none  presume  to  understand  a  feast. 

’Tis  not  enough  to  buy  the  precious  fish, 

But  know  what  sauce  gives  flavour  to  the  dish, 

If  stew’d  or  roasted  it  shall  relish  best, 

And  to  the  table  rouse  the  languid  guest.  50 

If  the  half-tainted  flesh  of  boars  you  hate, 

Let  the  round  dishes  bend  beneath  the  weight 

33  Marcus  Aufidius  Lurco  was  a  man  extremely  knowing  in 
the  science  of  good  eating.  Our  doctor  adventurer  here  hazards 
a  decision  with  his  usual  spirit.  Aufidius  invented  a  morning 
draught  of  strong  wine  mixed  with  honey,  to  fortify  the  stomach 
and  promote  digestion.  Catius  pleasantly  steals  the  honour  of 
this  invention  from  him,  and  condemns  the  custom  in  Aufidius, 
even  while  he  recommends  it  himself. 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  IV. 


267 


Of  those  with  acorns  fed  ;  though  fat,  indeed, 

The  rest  are  vapid  from  the  marshy  reed. 

The  vine-fed  goat’s  not  always  luscious  fare  ;  55 

Wise  palates  choose  the  wings  of  pregnant  hare. 

None  before  me  so  sapient  to  engage 
To  tell  the  various  nature,  or  the  age 
Of  fish  and  fowl ;  that  secret  was  my  own, 

Till  my  judicious  palate  quite  unknown.  60 

In  some  new  pastry  that  man’s  genius  lies  ; 

Yet  in  one  art  ’tis  meanness  to  be  wise. 

For  should  we  not  be  careful,  lest  our  oil, 

Though  excellent  our  wine,  the  fish  should  spoil ! 

The  sky  serene,  set  out  your  Massic  wine  ;  65 

In  the  night  air  its  foulness  shall  refine, 

And  lose  the  scent  unfriendly  to  the  nerves, 
Through  linen  strain’d,  no  flavour  it  preserves. 

He,  who  with  art  would  pour  a  stronger  wine 
On  smooth  Falernian  lees,  should  well  refine  70 
Til’  incorporated  mass  with  pigeons’  eggs ; 

The  falling  yolk  will  carry  down  the  dregs. 

Stew’d  shrimps  and  Afric  cockles  shall  excite 
A  jaded  drinker’s  languid  appetite  ; 

But  lettuce  after  wine  is  cold  and  crude,  75 

Yet  ham  or  sausage  is  provoking  food  ; 

Perhaps  he  may  prefer  with  higher  zest 
Whatever  in  a  filthy  tavern’s  dress’d. 

Two  sorts  of  sauce  are  worthy  to  be  known  ; 
Simple  the  first,  and  of  sweet  oil  alone :  80 

The  other  mix’d  with  rich  and  generous  wine, 

And  the  true  pickle  of  Byzantian  brine  ; 

Let  it  with  shredded  herbs  and  saffron  boil, 

And  when  it  cools  pour  in  Venafran  oil. 

Picenian  fruits  with  juicy  flavour  grow,  85 

But  Tibur’s  with  superior  beauty  glow. 

Some  grapes  have  with  success  in  pots  been  tried  : 
The  Alban  better  in  the  smoke  are  dried ; 

With  them  and  apples  and  the  lees  of  wine, 

White  pepper,  common  salt,  and  herring  brine,  90 


268 


HORACE. 


I  first  invented  a  delicious  feast, 

And  gave  a  separate  plate  to  every  guest. 
Monstrous,  to  spend  a  fortune  on  a  dish, 

Or  crowd  the  table  with  a  load  of  fish. 

It  strongly  turns  the  stomach,  when  a  slave  95 
Shall  on  your  cup  the  greasy  tokens  leave 
Of  what  rich  sauce  the  lucious  caitiff  stole  ; 

Or  when  vile  mould  incrusts  your  antique  bowl. 
Brooms,  mats  and  sawdust  are  so  cheaply  bought, 
That  not  to  have  them  is  a  shameless  fault.  100 
What !  sweep  with  dirty  broom  a  floor  inlaid, 

Or  on  foul  couches  Tyrian  carpets  spread  1 
H.  Catius,  by  friendship,  by  the  powers  divine, 
Take  me  to  hear  this  learned  sage  of  thine ; 

For  though  his  rules  you  faithfully  express,  105 
This  mere  repeating  makes  the  pleasure  less. 
Besides,  what  joy  to  view  his  air  and  mien! 

Trifles  to  you,  because  full  often  seen. 

Nor  mean  that  ardour  which  my  breast  inflames, 

To  visit  wisdom’s  even  remoter  streams,  110 

And  by  your  learned,  friendly  guidance  led, 

Quaff  the  pure  precept  at  the  fountain  head. 


SATIRE  V. 

In  a  humorous  dialogue  between  Ulysses  and  Tiresias,  our 
poet  exposes  the  arts  made  by  fortune-hunters  to  be  appointed 
the  heirs  of  rich  old  men. 

Ulysses.  Besides  the  precepts  which  you  gave  be 
fore, 

Resolve  this  question,  and  I  ask  no  more : 

Say  by  what  arts  and  methods  I  may  straight 
Repair  the  ruins  of  a  lost  estate.  4 

How  now,  Tiresias  1  whence  those  leering  smiles? 

Tiresias.  Already  versed  in  double-dealing  wiles, 
Are  you  not  satisfied  to  reach  again 
Your  native  land,  and  view  your  dear  demain? 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  V. 


269 


U.  How  poor  and  naked  I  return,  behold, 
Unerring  prophet,  as  you  first  foretold.  10 

The  wooing  tribe,  in  revellings  employ’d, 

My  stores  have  lavish’d,  and  my  herds  destroy’d ; 
But  high  descent  and  meritorious  deeds, 

Unblessed  with  wealth,  are  viler  than  sea-weeds. 

T.  Since,  to  be  brief,  you  shudder  at  the  thought 
Of  want,  attend  how  riches  may  be  caught.  16 
Suppose  a  thrush,  or  any  dainty  thing 

Be  sent  to  you,  despatch  it  on  the  wing 
To  some  rich  dotard.  What  your  garden  yields, 
The  choicest  honours  of  your  cultured  fields,  20 
To  him  be  sacrificed,  and  let  him  taste, 

Before  your  gods,  the  vegetable  feast. 

Though  he  be  perjured  ;  though  a  low-born  knave, 
Stain’d  with  fraternal  blood,  a  fugitive  slave, 

Yet  wait  upon  him  at  his  least  command,  25 

And  always  bid  him  take  the  upper  hand. 

U.  What !  shall  Ulysses  then  obey  the  call 

Of  such  a  wretch,  and  give  a  slave  the  wall  1 
Not  thus  at  Troy  I  proved  my  lofty  mind, 
Contending  ever  with  the  nobler  kind.  30 

T.  Then  poverty’s  your  fate.  U.  And  be  it  so. 

Let  me  with  soul  undaunted  undergo 

This  loathsome  evil,  since  my  valiant  heart 
In  greater  perils  bore  a  manly  part. 

But  instant  tell  me,  prophet,  how  to  scrape  35 
Returning  wealth,  and  pile  the  splendid  heap. 

T.  I  told,  and  tell  you  :  you  may  safely  catch 
The  wills  of  dotards,  if  you  wisely  watch  ; 

And  though  one  hunks  or  two  perceive  the  cheat, 
Avoid  the  hook,  or  nibble  off  the  bait,  40 

Lay  not  aside  your  golden  hope  of  prey, 

Or  drop  your  art,  though  baffled  in  your  play. 

Should  either  great  or  less  important  suit 
In  court  become  the  matter  of  dispute, 

Espouse  the  man  of  prosperous  affairs,  45 

Pregnant  with  wealth,  if  indigent  in  heirs ; 

Z  2 


270 


HORACE. 


Though  he  should  hamper  with  a  wicked  cause 
The  juster  party,  and  insult  the  laws. 

Despise  the  citizen  of  better  life, 

If  clogg’d  with  children,  or  a  fruitful  wife.  50 

Accost  him  thus,  (for  he  with  rapture  hears 
A  title  tingling  in  his  tender  ears,) 

Quintus,  or  Publius,  on  my  faith  depend, 

Your  own  deserts  have  render’d  me  your  friend  : 

I  know  the  mazy  doubles  of  the  laws,  55 

Untie  their  knots,  and  plead  with  vast  applause. 

Had  you  a  nut,  the  villain  might  as  well 
Pluck  out  my  eyes,  as  rob  you  of  the  shell. 

This  is  the  business  of  my  life  profess’d, 

That  you  lose  nothing,  or  become  a  jest.  60 

Bid  him  go  home,  of  his  sweet  self  take  care  ; 
Conduct  his  cause,  proceed,  and  persevere, 

Should  the  red  dogstar  infant  statues  split, 

Or  fat-paunch’d  Furius  in  poetic  fit 

Bombastic  howl ;  and,  while  the  tempest  blows,  65 

Bespawl  the  wintry  Alps  with  hoary  snows. 

Some  person  then,  who  happens  to  be  nigh, 

Shall  pull  your  client  by  the  sleeve,  and  cry, 

‘  See  with  what  patience  he  pursues  your  ends ! 

Was  ever  man  so  active  for  his  friends'?”  70 

Thus  gudgeons  daily  shall  swim  in  apace, 

And  stock  your  fish-ponds  with  a  fresh  increase. 

This  lesson  also  well  deserves  your  care, 

If  any  man  should  have  a  sickly  heir, 

And  large  estate,  lest  you  yourself  betray  75 

By  making  none  but  bachelors  your  prey, 

With  winning  ease  the  pleasing  bane  instil, 

In  hopes  to  stand  the  second  in  his  will ; 

Then  if  the  boy  by  some  disaster  hurl’d, 

Should  take  his  journey  to  the  nether  world,  80 

53  A  slave  was  no  sooner  made  free  than  he  qualified  himself 
with  a  surname,  such  as  Marcus  Quintus  Publius,  which  car¬ 
ried  a  sort  of  dignity  with  it.  The  Romans  saluted  each  other 
by  their  surnames. 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  V.  271 

* 

Your  name  in  full  reversion  may  supply 
The  void ;  for  seldom  fails  this  lucky  die. 

If  any  one  desires  you  to  peruse 
His  will,  be  sure  you  modestly  refuse, 

And  push  it  from  you  ;  but  obliquely  read  85 

The  second  clause,  and  quick  run  o’er  the  deed  ; 
Observing,  whether,  to  reward  your  toil, 

You  claim  the  whole,  or  must  divide  the  spoil. 

A  season’d  scrivener,  bred  in  office  low, 

Full  often  dupes,  and  mocks  the  gaping  crow.  9  0 
Thus  foil’d,  Nasica  shall  become  the  sport 
Of  old  Coranus,  while  he  pays  his  court. 

U.  What!  are  you  mad,  or  purposed  to  propose 
Obscure  predictions,  to  deride  my  woes  1 
T.  Oh  son  of  great  Laertes,  everything  95 

Shall  come  to  pass,  or  never,  as  I  sing ; 

For  Phoebus,  monarch  of  the  tuneful  Nine, 

Informs  my  soul,  and  gives  me  to  divine. 

U.  But,  good  Tiresias,  if  you  please,  reveal 
What  means  the  sequel  of  that  mystic  tale.  100 

T.  What  time  a  youth,  who  shall  sublimely  trace 
From  famed  ASneas  his  heroic  race, 

The  Parthian’s  dread,  triumphant  shall  maintain 
His  boundless  empire  over  land  and  main  ; 

Nasica,  loath  to  reimburse  his  coin,  105 

His  blooming  daughter  shall  discreetly  join 
To  stout  Coranus,  who  shall  slyly  smoke 
The  harpy’s  aim,  and  turn  it  to  a  joke, 

The  son-in-law  shall  gravely  give  the  sire 

His  witness’d  will,  and  presently  desire  110 

That  he  would  read  it :  coyly  he  complies, 

And  silent  cons  it  with  attentive  eyes ; 

But  finds,  alas  !  to  him  and  his  forlorn 
No  legacy  bequeath’d — except  to  mourn. 

Add  to  these  precepts,  if  a  crafty  lass,  115 

Or  freedman  manage  a  delirious  ass, 

Be  their  ally  ;  their  faith  applaud,  that  you 
When  absent,  may  receive  as  much  in  lieu ; 


272 


HORACE. 


’Tis  good  to  take  these  outworks  to  his  pelf, 

But  best  to  storm  the  citadel  itself.  120 

Writes  he  vile  verses  in  a  frantic  vein? 

Augment  his  madness,  and  approve  the  strain: 
Loves  he  a  lass  1  then,  with  cheerful  glee 
Give  to  his  arms  your  own  Penelope. 

U.  Can  you  suppose  a  dame  so  chaste,  so  pure, 
Could  e’er  be  tempted  to  the  guilty  lure,  126 

Whom  all  the  suitors  amorously  strove, 

In  vain,  to  stagger  in  her  plighted  love  1 

T.  The  youth  too  sparing  of  their  presents  came ; 
They  loved  the  banquet  rather  than  the  dame ;  130 

And  thus  your  prudent,  honourable  spouse, 

It  seems,  was  faithful  to  her  nuptial  vows. 

But  had  she  once  indulged  the  dotard’s  glee 
Smack’d  her  old  cull,  and  shared  the  spoil  with  thee, 
She  never  after  could  be  terrified,  135 

Sagacious  beagle,  from  the  reeking  hide. 

I’ll  tell  a  tale,  well  worthy  to  be  told, 

A  fact  that  happen’d,  and  I  then  was  old : 

A  hag  at  Thebes,  a  wicked  one,  no  doubt, 

Was  thus,  according  to  her  will,  lugg’d  out,  140 
Stiff  to  the  pile.  Upon  his  naked  back 
Her  heir  sustain’d  the  well  anointed  pack. 

She,  likely,  took  this  crotchet  in  her  head, 

That  she  might  slip,  if  possible,  when  dead, 

From  him,  who  trudging  through  a  filthy  road,  145 
Had  stuck  too  closely  to  the  living  load. 

Be  cautious,  therefore,  and  advance  with  art. 

Nor  sink  beneath,  nor  overact  your  part. 

A  noisy  fellow  must  of  course  offend 

The  surly  temper  of  a  sullen  friend  :  150 

Yet  be  not  mute — like  Davus  in  the  play, 

With  head  inclined,  his  awful  nod  obey, 

Creep  into  favour :  if  a  ruler  gale 
Assault  his  face,  admonish  him  to  veil 
His  precious  pate.  Oppose  your  shoulders,  proud  155 
To  disengage  him  from  the  bustling  crowd. 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  V. 


273 


If  he  loves  prating,  hang  an  ear :  should  lust 
Of  empty  glory  be  the  blockhead’s  gust, 

Indulge  his  eager  appetite,  and  puff 

The  growing  bladder  with  inspiring  stuff,  160 

Till  he,  with  hands  uplifted  to  the  skies, 

Enough  !  enough !  in  glutted  rapture  cries. 

When  he  shall  free  you  from  your  servile  fear, 
And  tedious  toil;  when  broad  awake,  you  hear, 

“To  good  Ulysses,  my  right  trusty  slave,  165 
A  fourth  division  of  my  lands  I  leave 
“  Is  then  (as  void  of  consolation,  roar) 

My  dearest  friend,  my  Dama  now  no  more  ? 

Where  shall  I  find  another  man  so  just, 

Firm  in  his  love,  and  faithful  to  his  trust  1”  170 

Squeeze  out  some  tears :  ’tis  fit  in  such  a  case 
To  cloak  our  joys  beneath  a  mournful  face. 

Though  left  to  your  discretionary  care, 

Erect  a  tomb  magnificently  fair, 

And  let  your  neighbours,  to  proclaim  abroad  175 
Your  fame,  the  pompous  funeral  applaud. 

If  any  vassal  of  the  will-compeers, 

With  asthma  gasping,  and  advanced  in  years, 

Should  be  disposed  to  purchase  house  or  land, 

Tell  him,  that  he  may  readily  command  180 

Whatever  may  to  your  proportion  come, 

And  for  the  value,  let  him  name  the  sum. — 

But  I  am  summon’d  by  the  queen  of  hell 
Back  to  the  shades.  Live  artful,  and  farewell. 

184  Had  the  dialogue  continued  any  longer,  Ulysses  must 
either  have  refused  to  follow  the  prophet’s  advice,  which  would 
have  been  cold  and  unworthy  of  the  spirit  of  satire,  or  he  must 
have  complied  with  it,  in  violation  of  his  own  character.  Hor¬ 
ace  probably  borrowed  the  very  happy  manner  of  breaking  off 
the  conversation  from  a  passage  in  the  Odyssey,  where  Proser¬ 
pine  bids  the  ghosts  advance  in  order  before  Ulysses,  and  then 
commands  them  to  retire. — Dac. 


274 


HORACE. 


SATIRE  VI. 

Horace  opposes  the  conveniences  of  a  country  retireme 
troubles  of  a  town  life. 

I  often  wish’d  I  had  a  farm, 

A  decent  dwelling,  snug  and  warm, 

A  garden,  and  a  spring  as  pure 
As  crystal,  running  by  my  door ; 

Besides  a  little  ancient  grove, 

Where  at  my  leisure  I  might  rove. 

The  gracious  gods,  to  crown  my  bliss, 
Have  granted  this,  and  more  than  this ; 

I  have  enough  in  my  possessing, 

’Tis  well :  I  ask  no  other  blessing, 

Oh  Hermes !  than  remote  from  strife 
To  have  and  hold  them  for  my  life. 

If  I  was  never  known  to  raise 
My  fortune  by  dishonest  ways; 

Nor,  like  the  spendthrifts  of  the  times, 
Shall  ever  sink  it  by  my  crimes : 

If  thus  I  neither  pray  nor  ponder — 

Oh!  might  I  have  that  angle  yonder, 
Which  disproportions  now  my  field, 

What  satisfaction  it  would  yield  ! 

Oh  that  some  lucky  chance  but  threw 
A  pot  of  silver  in  my  view, 

As  lately  to  the  man,  who  bought 
The  very  land  in  which  he  wrought ! 

If  I  am  pleased  with  my  condition, 

Oh  hear,  and  grant  this  last  petition : 
Indulgent,  let  my  cattle  batten  ; 

Let  all  things,  but  my  fancy,  fatten ; 

And  thou  continue  still  to  guard, 

As  thou  art  wont,  thy  suppliant  bard  ! 

Whenever  therefore  I  retreat 
From  Rome  into  my  Sabine  seat, 


to  the 


5 


10 


15 


20 


25. 


30 


BOOK  II - SATIRE  VI. 


275 


By  mountains  fenced  on  either  side, 

And  in  my  castle  fortified. 

What  can  I  write  with  greater  pleasure  36 
Than  satires  in  familiar  measure  ? 

Nor  mad  ambition  there  destroys, 

Nor  sickly  wind  my  health  annoys  ; 

Nor  noxious  autumn  gives  me  pain, 

The  ruthless  undertaker’s  gain.  40 

Whatever  title  please  thine  ear, 

Father  of  mourning,  Janus,  hear, 

Since  mortal  men  by  Heaven’s  decree, 
Commence  their  toils,  imploring  thee, 

Director  of  the  busy  throng,  45 

Be  thou  the  prelude  of  my  song, 

At  Rome,  you  press  me:  “Without  fail; 

A  friend  expects  you  for  his  bail; 

Be  nimble  to  perform  your  part, 

Lest  any  rival  get  the  start.  50 

Though  rapid  Boreas  sweep  the  ground, 

Or  winter  in  a  narrower  round 
Contract  the  day,  through  storm  and  snow, 

At  all  adventures  you  must  go.” 

When  bound  beyond  equivocation,  55 

Or  any  mental  reservation, 

By  all  the  ties  of  legal  traps, 

And  to  my  ruin  too,  perhaps, 

I  still  must  bustle  through  the  crowd, 

And  press  the  tardy  ;  when  aloud  60 

A  foul-mouth’d  fellow  reimburses 
This  usage  with  a  peal  of  curses. 

“  What  madness  hath  possess’d  thy  p3te 
To  justle  folk  at  such  a  rate, 

When  puffing  through  the  streets  you  scour  65 
To  meet  Maecenas  at  an  hour  1” 

This  pleases  me,  to  tell  the  truth, 

And  is  as  honey  to  my  tooth. 

Yet  when  I  reach  th’  Esquilian  hill, 

(That  dreadful  scene,  and  gloomy  still,) 


70 


270  HORACE. 

A  thousand  busy  cares  surround  me, 

Distract  my  senses,  and  confound  me. 

“  Roscius  entreated  you  to  meet 
At  court  to-morrow  before  eight — 

The  secretaries  have  implored  75 

Your  presence  at  their  council  board — 

Pray,  take  this  patent,  and  prevail 
Upon  your  friend  to  fix  the  seal — ” 

“  Sir,  l  shall  try” — replies  the  man, 

More  urgent ;  “  if  you  please  you  can — •”  80 

’Tis  more  than  seven  years  complete, 

It  hardly  wants  a  month  of  eight, 

Since  great  Maecenas’  favour  graced  me, 

Since  first  among  his  friends  he  placed  me, 
Sometimes  to  carry  in  his  chair,  85 

A  mile  or  two,  to  take  the  air; 

And  might  intrust  with  idle  chat, 

Discoursing  upon  this  or  that, 

As  in  a  free  familiar  way, 

'  “  How,  tell  me,  Horace,  goes  the  day  !  90 

Think  you  the  Thracian  can  engage 
The  Syrian  Hector  of  the  stage  1 
This  morning  air  is  very  bad 
For  folks  who  are  but  thinly  clad.” 

Our  conversation  chiefly  dwells  95 

On  these,  and  such-like  bagatelles, 

As  might  the  veriest  prattler  hear, 

Or  be  reposed  in  leaky  ear 
Yet  every  day,  and  every  hour, 

I’m  more  enslaved  to  envy’s  power.  100 

“  Our  son  of  fortune,  proud  and  gay, 

Sat  with  Maecenas  at  the  play, 

Just  by  the  stage  :  you  might  remark 
They  play’d  together  in  the  park.” 

Should  any  rumour,  without  head  105 

Or  tail,  about  the  streets  be  spread, 

Whoever  meets  me  gravely  nods, 

And  says,  “  As  you  approach  the  gods, 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  VI. 


277 


It  is  no  mystery  to  you, 

What  do  the  Dacians  mean  to  do  V*  110 

“Indeed,  I  know  not — ■”  “  How  you  joke, 

And  love  to  sneer  at  simple  folk !” 

“  Then  vengeance  seize  this  head  of  mine, 

If  I  have  heard,  or  can  divine — ” 

“  Yet,  prithee,  where  are  Caesar’s  bands  115 
Allotted  their  debenture  lands  ?” 

Although  I  swear,  I  know  now  more 
Of  that,  than  what  they  ask’d  before, 

They  stand  amazed,  and  think  me  grown 
The  closest  mortal  ever  known.  120 

Thus,  in  this  giddy,  busy  maze, 

I  lose  the  sunshine  of  my  days  ; 

And  oft,  with  fervent  wish,  repeat — 

“  When  shall  I  see  my  sweet  retreat  1 

Oh !  when  with  books  of  sages  deep,  125 

Sequester’d  ease,  and  gentle  sleep, 

In  sweet  oblivion,  blissful  balm ! 

The  busy  cares  of  life  becalm  ! 

Oh !  when  shall  I  enrich  my  veins, 

Spite  of  Pythagoras,  with  beans  1  130 

110  The  Dacians  had  engaged  in  Antony’s  army  at  the  battle 
of  Actium  in  723,  and  Octavius  had  disobliged  them  by  refusing 
some  favours,  which  they  demanded  by  their  ambassadors.  He 
was  obliged  to  send  Marcus  Crassus  against  them  the  year  fol¬ 
lowing. — San. 

115  Octavius  promised  the  soldiers  who  had  served  under 
him  in  reducing  Sicily  to  divide  some  of  the  conquered  lands 
among  them.  But  the  war  in  which  he  was  engaged  against 
Antony  obliged  him  to  defer  this  division,  and  immediately  alter 
the  battle  of  Actium  the  troops  which  he  had  sent  to  Brunriu- 
sium  mutinied  on  this  occasion.  He  went  himself  to  stop 
beginning  of  a  revolt,  which  might  have  been  attended  with  most, 
dangerous  consequences.  This  affair  was  all  the  news  at  Rome 
when  our  poet  wrote  the  present  satire. 

130  This  expression  is  pleasant  and  satirical,  in  allusion  to 
the  metempsychosis  of  Pythagoras.  Never  did  kindred  and 
consanguinity  extend  so  far  as  that  of  this  philosopher.  Every 
living  creature  was  of  his  family,  and  as  he  found  ir.  a  bean  a 

Hor.  Yol.  I. — Aa 


278 


HORACE. 


Or  live  luxurious  in  my  cottage 
On  bacon-ham  and  savoury  pottage  1 
O  joyous  nights !  delicious  feasts ! 

At  which  the  gods  might  be  my  guests !” 

My  friends  and  I  regaled,  my  slaves  135 

Enjoy  what  their  rich  master  leaves. 

There  every  guest  may  drink  and  fill 
As  much,  or  little,  as  he  will, 

Exempted  from  the  bedlam  rules 

Of  roaring  prodigals  and  fools :  140 

Whether  in  merry  mood  or  whim, 

He  fills  his  bumper  to  the  brim  ; 

Or,  better  pleased  to  let  it  pass, 

Grows  mellow  with  a  moderate  glass. 

Nor  this  man’s  house,  nor  that’s  estate  145 
Becomes  the  subject  of  debate  ; 

Nor  whether  Lepos,  the  buffoon 
Can  dance,  or  not,  a  rigadoon ; 

But  that  concerns  us  more,  I  trow, 

And  were  a  scandal  not  to  know ;  150 

Whether  our  bliss  consist  in  store 
Of  riches,  or  in  virtue’s  lore: 

Whether  esteem,  or  private  ends 
Should  guide  us  in  the  choice  of  friends  : 

Or  what,  if  rightly  understood,  155 

Man’s  real  bliss,  and  sovereign  good. 

While  thus  we  spend  the  social  night, 

Still  mixing  profit  with  delight, 

My  neighbour  Cervius  never  fails 
To  club  his  part  in  pithy  tales :  160 

Suppose,  Arellius,  one  should  praise 
Your  anxious  opulence  :  he  says — 

A  country  mouse,  as  authors  tell, 

Of  old  invited  to  his  cell 

\ 

certain  whimsical  likeness  of  some  parts  of  a  human  body,  he 
fancied  it  contained  a  soul  subjected  to  the  vicissitudes  of  a 
transmigration,  and  therefore  forbade  his  disciples  to  eat  beans, 
lest  they  might  eat  some  of  their  relations. — Heinsius.  San. 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  VI. 


279 


A  city  mouse,  and  with  his  best  165 

Would  entertain  the  courtly  guest. 

Thrifty  he  was,  and  full  of  cares 
To  make  the  most  of  his  affairs, 

Yet  in  the  midst  of  his  frugality 

Would  give  a  loose  to  hospitality.  170 

In  short,  he  goes,  and  freely  fetches 

Whole  ears  of  hoarded  oats  and  vetches, 

Dry  grapes  and  raisins  cross  his  chaps, 

And  dainty  bacon,  but  in  scraps, 

If  delicacies  could  invite  175 

My  squeamish  courtier’s  appetite, 

Who  turn’d  his  nose  at  every  dish, 

And  saucy  trifled,  with  a — pish ! 

The  master  of  the  house  reclined 
On  dawny  chaff,  more  temperate  dined  180 
On  wheat,  and  darnel  from  a  manger, 

And  left  the  dainties  for  the  stranger. 

The  cit,  displeased  at  his  repast, 

Address’d  our  simple  host  at  last: 

“  My  friend,  what  pleasure  can  you  find  185 
To  live  this  mountain’s  back  behind  1 
Would  you  prefer  the  town,  and  men, 

To  this  wild  wood,  and  dreary  den, 

No  longer  moping,  loiter  here, 

But  go  with  me  to  better  cheer.  190 

“  Since  animals  but  draw  their  breath, 

And  have  no  being  after  death ; 

Since  nor  the  little,  nor  the  great, 

Can  shut  the  rigour  of  their  fate 

At  least  be  merry  while  you  may,  195 

The  life  of  mice  is  but  a  day  ; 

Come  then,  my  friend,  to  pleasure  give 
The  little  life  you  have  to  live.” 

Encouraged  thus,  the  country  mouse, 
Transported,  sallies  from  his  house  :  200 

They  both  set  out,  in  hopes  to  crawl 
At  night  beneath  the  city  wall ; 


280 


HORACE. 


And  now  the  night,  elapsed  eleven, 

Possess’d  the  middle  space  of  heaven, 

When  in  a  rich  and  splendid  dome  205 

They  stopp’d,  and  found  themselves  at  home, 
Where  ivory  couches,  overspread 
With  Tyrian  carpets,  glowing,  fed 
The  dazzled  eye.  To  lure  the  taste, 

The  fragments  of  a  costly  feast,  210 

Remaining,  dress’d  but  yesterday, 

In  baskets,  piled  on  baskets,  lay. 

The  courtier  on  a  purple  seat 
Had  placed  his  rustic  friend  in  state, 

Then  bustled,  like  a  busy  host,  215 

Supplying  dishes  boil’d  and  roast, 

Nor  yet  omits  the  courtier’s  duty 
Of  tasting,  ere  he  brings  the  booty. 

The  country  mouse,  with  rapture  strange,. 
Rejoices  in  his  fair  exchange,  220 

And  lolling,  like  an  easy  guest, 

Enjoys  the  cheer,  and  cracks  his  jest, 

.  When,  on  a  sudden,  opening  gates, 

Loud  jarring,  shook  them  from  their  seats. 

They  ran,  affrighted,  through  the  room,  225 
And,  apprehensive  of  their  doom, 

Now  trembled  more  and  more  ;  when,  hark ! 
The  mastiff  dogs  began  to  bark, 

The  dome,  to  raise  the  tumult  more, 

Resounded  to  the  surly  roar.  230 

The  bumpkin  then  concludes,  “  Adieu ! 

This  life,  perhaps,  agrees  with  you : 

My  grove,  and  cave,  secure  from  snares, 

Shall  comfort  me  with  chaff  and  tares.” 


> 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  VII. 


281 


SATIRE  VII. 

One  of  Horace’s  slaves,  making  use  of  the  freedom  allowed  at 
the  Saturnalia,  rates  his  master  in  a  droll  and  severe  manner. 

Davus.  I’ll  hear  no  more,  and  with  impatience  burn, 
Slave  as  I  am,  to  answer  in  my  turn ; 

And  yet  I  fear —  Horace.  What !  Davus,  is  it  you  ? 

D.  Yes.  Davus,  sir,  the  faithful  and  the  true. 
With  wit  enough  no  sudden  death  to  fear —  5 

H.  Well,  sinee  this  jovial  season  of  the  year 
Permits  it,  and  our  ancestors  ordain. 

No  more  thy  dear  impertinence  restrain. 

D.  Among  mankind,  while  some  with  steady  view 
One  constant  course  of  darling  vice  pursue,  10 
Most  others  float  along  the  changing  tide, 

And  now  to  virtue,  now  to  vice  they  glide. 

Lo  !  from  three  rings  how  Priscus  plays  the  light ; 
Now  shows  his  naked  hand — the  various  wight 
With  every  hour  a  different  habit  wears  :  15 

Now  in  a  palace  haughtily  appears, 

Then  hides  him  in  some  vile  and  filthy  place, 

Wliere  a  clean  slave  would  blush  to  show  his  face. 
Now  rakes  at  home,  and  now  to  Athens  flies ; 
Intensely  studies  with  the  learn’d  and  wise.  20 
Sure  all  the  gods,  who  rule  this  varying  earth, 

In  deep  despite  presided  at  his  birth. 

Old  Volanerius,  once  that  man  of  joke, 

When  the  just  gout  his  crippled  fingers  broke, 
Maintain’d  a  slave  to  gather  up  the  dice,  25 

So  constant  was  he  to  his  darling  vice. 

Yet  less  a  wretch  than  he,  who  now  maintains 
A  steady  course,  now  drives  with  looser  reins. 

H.  Tell  me,  thou  tedious  varlet,  whither  tends 
This  putrid  stuff"?  D.  At  you  direct  it  bends.  30 
H.  At  me,  you  scoundrel  ?  D.  When  with  lavish 
praise 

You  vaunt  the  happiness  of  ancient  days, 

A  a2 


282 


HORACE. 


Suppose  some  god  should  take  you  at  your  word, 
Would  you  not  scorn  the  blessing  you  implored  ? 
Whether  not  yet  convinced,  as  you  pretend,  35 
Or  weak  the  cause  of  virtue  to  defend  ; 

While  sinking  in  the  mire  you  strive,  in  vain, 

Too  deeply  plunged,  to  free  your  foot  again. 

When  you’re  at  Rome,  the  country  has  your  sighs ; 
A  rustic  grown,  you  vaunt  into  the  skies.  40 

The  absent  town.  Perchance,  if  uninvited 
To  sup  abroad,  oh  !  then  you’re  so  delighted 
With  your  own  homely  meal,  that  one  would  think 
That  he  who  next  engages  you  to  drink, 

Must  tie  you  neck  and  heels  ;  you  seem  so  bless’d  45 
When  with  no  bumper-invitation  press’d. 

But  should  Maecenas  bid  his  poet  wait, 

(Great  folks,  like  him,  can  never  sup  till  late,) 
Sputtering  with  idle  rage  the  house  you  rend, 

“  Where  is  my  essence  1  Rogues,  what !  none  at¬ 
tend  1”  50 

While  the  buffoons,  you  promised  to  have  treated, 
Sneak  off  with  curses — not  to  be  repeated. 

Fond  of  myself,  too  fond,  perhaps,  I  seem ; 

I  throw  my  nose  up  to  a  savoury  steam  : 

Or  folks  may  call  me,  careless,  idle  sot,  55 

Or  say  I  pledge  too  oft  the  other  pot : 

But  shall  the  man  of  deeper  vice  like  you, 

With  malice  unprovoked  my  faults  pursue, 

Because  with  specious  phrase,  and  terms  of  art, 
You  clothe,  forsooth,  the  vices  of  your  heart  1  60 

What  if  a  greater  fool  your  worship’s  found, 
Than  the  poor  slave  you  bought  for  twenty  pound? 
Think  not  to  fright  me  with  that  threat’ning  air, 
Nay,  keep  your  temper,  sir,  your  fingers  spare, 
While  I  the  maxims,  sage  and  wise,  repeat,  65 
Taught  me  by  Crispin’s  porter  at  his  gate. 

You  take  the  yoke,  and  to  the  husband’s  rage 
Your  fortune,  person,  life,  and  fame  engage. 

Have  you  escaped  ?  Methinks,  your  future  care 
Might  wisely  teach  you  to  avoid  the  snare.  70 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  VII. 


283 


No,  you  with  ardour  to  the  danger  run, 

And  dare  a  second  time  to  be  undone. 

Repeated  slave !  What  beast,  that  breaks  his  chain, 
In  love  with  bondage  would  return  again  1 

But  you,  it  seems,  ne’er  touch  the  wedded  dame — 
Then,  by  the  son  of  Jove,  I  here  disclaim  76 

The  name  of  thief,  when,  though  with  backward  eye 
I  wisely  pass  the  silver  goblet  by. 

But  take  the  danger  and  the  shame  away, 

And  vagrant  nature  bounds  upon  her  prey,  80 

Spurning  the  reins.  But  say,  shall  you  pretend 
O’er  me  to  lord  it,  who  can  vilely  bend 
To  each  proud  master;  to  each  changing  hour 
A  very  slave  1  Not  even  the  pretor’s  power, 

WTith  thrice-repeated  rites,  thy  fears  control,  85 
Or  vindicate  the  freedom  of  thy  soul. 

But  as  the  slave,  who  lords  it  o’er  the  rest, 

Is  still  a  slave,  a  master  slave  at  best, 

So  art  thou,  insolent,  by  me  obey’d  ; 

Thou  thing  of  wood  and  wires,  by  others  play’d.  90 
H.  Who  then  is  free  ?  D.  The  wise,  who  well 
maintains 

An  empire  o’er  himself :  whom  neither  chains, 

Nor  want,  nor  death,  with  slavish  fear  inspire, 

Who  boldly  answers  to  his  warm  desire, 

Who  can  ambition’s  vainest  gifts  despise,  95 

Firm  in  himself  who  on  himself  relies, 

Polish’d  and  round,  who  runs  his  proper  course, 

And  breaks  misfortune  with  superior  force. 

What  is  there  here  that  you  can  justly  claim, 

Or  call  your  own  1  When  an  imperious  dame  100 
Demands  her  price,  with  insults  vile  pursues  thee  ; 
Driven  out  of  doors,  with  water  well  bedews  thee, 
Then  calls  you  back  ;  for  shame,  shake  off  her  chain, 
And  boldly  tell  her  you  are  free.  In  vain ; 

A  tyrant-lord  thy  better  will  restrains,  105 

And  spurs  thee  hard,  and  breaks  thee  to  his  reins. 

If  some  famed  piece  the  painter’s  art  displays, 
Transfix’d  you  stand,  with  admiration  gaze; 


284 


HORACE. 


But  is  your  worship’s  folly  less  than  mine, 

When  I  with  wonder  view  some  rude  design  110 
In  crayons  or  in  charcoal,  to  invite 
The  crowd  to  see  the  gladiators  fight  ? 

Methinks,  in  very  deed  they  mount  the  stage, 

And  seem  in  real  combat  to  engage  ; 

Now  in  strong  attitude  they  dreadful  bend  ;  115 

Wounded  they  wound  ;  they  parry  and  defend  • 

Yet  Davus  is  with  rogue  and  rascal  graced, 

But  you’re  a  critic,  and  a  man  of  taste. 

I  am,  forsooth,  a  good-for-nothing  knave, 

When  by  a  smoking  pasty  made  a  slave  :  120 

In  you  it  shows  a  soul  erect  and  great, 

If  you  refuse  even  one  luxurious  treat. 

Why  may  not  I,  like  you,  my  guts  obey'? 

“  My  shoulders  for  the  dear  indulgence  pay.” 

But  should  not  you  with  heavier  stripes  be  taught, 
WTho  search  for  luxuries  ;  how  dearly  bought !  126 

For  soon  this  endless,  this  repeated  feast, 

Its  relish  lost,  shall  pall  upon  the  taste ; 

Then  shall  your  trembling  limbs  refuse  the  weight 
Of  a  vile  carcass  with  disease  replete.  130 

How  seldom  from  the  lash  a  slave  escapes, 

Who  trucks  some  trifle,  that  he  stole,  for  grapes  ? 
And  shall  we  not  the  servile  glutton  rate, 

To  please  his  throat  who  sells  a  good  estate  1 
You  cannot  spend  one  vacant  hour  alone ;  135 

You  cannot  make  that  vacant  hour  your  own. 

A  self-deserter  from  yourself  you  stray, 

And  now  with  wine,  and  now  with  sleep  allay 
Your  cares ;  in  vain :  companions  black  as  night., 
Thy  pressing  cares,  arrest  thee  in  thy  flight.  140 
H.  Is  there  no  stone  ?  D.  At  whom,  good  sir,  to 
throw  it? 

H.  Have  I  no  dart  I  D.  What  mischief  ails  our 
poet? 

He’s  mad,  or  making  verses.  H.  Hence,  you  knave ! 
Or  to  my  farm  I’ll  send  you — the  ninth  slave. 


BOOK  II. - SATIRE  VIII. 


285 


SATIRE  VIII. 

Horace  in  this  satire  presents  us  with  a  humorous  descrip¬ 
tion  of  a  miser’s  entertainment. 

Horace.  They  told  me,  that  you  spent  the  jovial  night 
With  Nasidienus,  that  same  happy  wight, 

From  early  day,  or  you  had  been  my  guest ; 

But,  prithee,  tell  me  how  you  liked  your  feast. 
Fundanius.  Sure  never  better.  H.  Tell  me,  if  you 
,  please,  5 

How  did  you  first  your  appetite  appease  1 
F.  First  a  Lucanian  boar  of  tender  kind, 

Caught,  says  our  host,  in  a  soft,  southern  wind. 
Around  him  lay  whatever  could  excite, 

With  pungent  force,  the  jaded  appetite,  10 

Rapes,  lettuce,  radishes,  anchovy-brine, 

With  skerrets,  and  the  lees  of  Coan  wine. 

This  dish  removed,  a  slave  expert  and  able 
With  purple  napkin  wiped  a  maple  table. 

Another  sweeps  the  fragments  of  the  feast,  15 
That  nothing  useless  might  offend  the  guest. 

At  Ceres’  feast  as  Attic  virgin  walks 
Solemn  and  slow,  so  black  Hydaspes  stalks 
With  right  Caecubian,  and  the  wines  of  Greece — 

Of  foreign  growth,  that  never  cross’d  the  seas.  20 
If  Alban  and  Falernian  please  you  more, 

So  says  our  host,  you  may  have  both  good  store ; 
Poor  wealth  indeed —  H.  But  tell  me,  who  were 
there, 

Thus  happy  to  enjoy  such  luscious  fare  1 
F.  On  the  first  bed  Thurinus  lay  between  25 
Varius  and  me,  if  happily  right  I  ween  ; 

Servilius  and  Vibidius  both  were  there, 

Brought  by  Maecenas,  and  with  him  they  share 
The  middle  bed.  Our  master  of  the  feast 
On  the  third  couch,  in  seat  of  honour  placed,  30 
Porcius  betwixt  and  Nomentanus  lies ; 

Porcius,  who  archly  swallows  custard  pies. 


286 


HORACE. 


Whate’er  of  curious  relish  lay  unknown 
Is  by  Nomentane  with  his  finger  shown ; 

For  we,  poor  folk,  unknowing  of  our  feast,  35 
Eat  fish  and  wild  fowl — of  no  common  taste. 

But  he,  to  prove  how  luscious  was  the  treat, 

With  a  broil’d  flounder’s  entrails  crowds  my  plate, 
Then  tells  me  apples  are  more  ruddy  bright 
If  gather’d  by  fair  Luna’s  waning  light.  40 

He  best  can  tell  you  where  the  difference  lies — 

But  here  Servilius  to  Vibidius  cries, 

“  Sure  to  be  poison’d  unrevenged  we  die, 

Unless  we  drink  the  wretched  miser  dry. 

Slave,  give  us  larger  glasses.”  Struck  with  dread, 
A  fearful  pale  our  landlord’s  face  o’erspread  ;  46 

Great  were  his  terrors  of  such  drinking  folk, 
Whether  with  too  much  bitterness  they  joke, 

Or  that  hot  wines,  dishonouring  his  feast, 

Deafen  the  subtle  judgment  of  the  taste.  50 

When  our  two  champions  had  their  faces  crown’d, 
We  did  them  justice,  and  the  glass  went  round; 

His  parasites  alone  his  anger  fear’d, 

And  the  full  flask  unwillingly  they  spared. 

In  a  large  dish  an  outstretch’d  lamprey  lies,  55 
With  shrimps  all  floating  round :  the  master  cries, 
“This  fish,  Maecenas,  big  with  spawn  was  caught, 
F©r  after  spawning-time  its  flesh  is  naught. 

The  sauce  is  mix’d  with  olive  oil;  the  best, 

And  purest  from  the  vats  Venafran  press’d,  60 
And,  as  it  boil’d,  we  pour’d  in  Spanish  brine, 

Nor  less  than  five-year-old  Italian  wine. 

A  little  Chian’s  better  when  ’tis  boil’d, 

By  any  other  it  is  often  spoil’d. 

Then  was  white  pepper  o’er  it  gently  pour’d,  65 
And  vinegar  of  Lesbian  vintage  sour’d. 

“I  first  among  the  men  of  sapience  knew 
Roquets  and  herbs  in  cockle  brine  to  stew, 

Though  in  this  same  rich  pickle,  ’tis  confess’d, 

His  unwash’d  crayfish  sage  Curtillus  dress’d.”  70 


BOOK  II. — SATIRE  VIII. 


287 


But  lo  !  the  canopy,  that  o’er  us  spreads, 
Tumbled,  in  hideous  ruin,  on  our  heads, 

With  dust,  how  black!  not  such  the  clouds  arise 
When  o’er  the  plain  a  northern  tempest  flies. 

Some  horrors,  yet  more  horrible,  we  dread,  75 
But  raise  us,  when  we  found  the  danger  fled. 

Poor  Rufus  droop’d  his  head,  and  sadly  cried, 

As  if  his  only  son  untimely  died. 

Sure  he  had  wept,  till  weeping  ne’er  had  end, 

But  wise  Nomentane  thus  upraised  his  friend  ;  80 

“  Fortune,  thou  cruellest  of  powers  divine, 

To  joke  poor  mortals  is  a  joke  of  thine.” 

While  Varius  with  a  napkin  scarce  suppress’d 
His  laughter,  Balatro,  who  loves  a  jest, 

Cries,  “  Such  the  lot  of  life,  nor  must  you  claim,  85 
For  all  your  toils,  a  fair  return  of  fame. 

While  you  are  tortured  thus,  and  torn  with  pain, 

A  guest  like  me,  polite  to  entertain 
With  bread  well  baked,  with  sauces  season’d  right, 
And  all  your  slaves  most  elegantly  dight,  90 

Down  falls  the  canopy,  a  trick  of  fate, 

Or  a  groom-footman  stumbling  breaks  a  plate. 

Good  fortune  hides,  adversity  calls  forth 
A  landlord’s  genius,  and  a  general’s  worth.” 

To  this  mine  host ;  “  Thou  ever  gentle  guest,  95 
May  all  thy  wishes  by  the  gods  be  bless’d, 

Thou  best  good  man !”  But  when  we  saw  him  rise, 
From  bed  to  bed  the  spreading  whisper  flies. 

H.  Sure,  never  play  so  fine.  But,  prithee,  say, 
How  afterward  you  laugh’d  the  time  away.  100 
F.  “  Slaves,”  cries  Vibidius,  “  have  you  broke  the 
cask? 

How  often  must  I  call  for  t’other  flask  1” 

With  some  pretended  joke  our  laugh  was  dress’d, 
Servilius  ever  seconding  the  jest, 

When  you,  great  host,  return  with  alter’d  face,  105 
As  if  to  mend  with  art  your  late  disgrace. 

The  slaves  behind  in  mighty  charger  bore 
A  crane  in  pieces  torn  and  powder’d  o’er 


288 


HORACE. 


With  salt  and  flour ;  and  a  white  gander’s  liver, 
Stuff’d  fat  with  figs,  bespoke  the  curious  giver;  110 
Besides  the  wings  of  hares,  for  so,  it  seems, 

No  man  of  luxury  the  back  esteems. 

Then  saw  we  blackbirds  with  o’er-roasted  breast, 
Laid  on  the  board,  and  ringdoves  rumpless  dress’d  ! 
Delicious  fare  !  did  not  our  host  explain  115 

Their  various  qualities  in  endless  strain, 

Their  various  natures ;  but  we  fled  the  feast, 
Resolved  in  vengeance  nothing  more  to  taste, 

As  if  Canidia,  with  empoison’d  breath, 

Worse  than  a  serpent’s,  blasted  it  with  death.  120 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 

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